


With The Jack and The Jukebox

by readfah_cwen



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-31 10:08:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readfah_cwen/pseuds/readfah_cwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian Smythe has been forced to get a summer job by his parents. It's a tragedy, until he discovers his greatest challenge yet in the land of minimum wage: getting into the oh-so-sexy assistant manager Blaine Anderson's pants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Turn Around Boy Let Me Hit That

**Author's Note:**

> Originally started for Seblaine Week 2013. [TUMBLR LINK](http://boldmistakes.tumblr.com/post/52412454914/with-the-jack-and-the-jukebox-seblaine-1).

It was a breezy late May day at the Smythe summer home in the Hamptons, and Sebastian Smythe had been been called to a family meeting. As these typically involved things he did not care about he had taken his time coming, and was disappointed to find his parents had not gotten bored and left. They were seated on the loveseat of the family room that overlooked the water, and his mother gestured for him to take a seat in the chaise opposite. He dropped into it, giving them a disgruntled expression that clearly said he would rather be out in their boat or meeting cute boys in the city or watering a ficus.

“So what’s this meeting for?”

“Sebastian dear,” his mother started, as she usually did. His dad smiled encouragingly at him. “We think it’s time for you to get a little more responsible.”

“How so?” Sebastian asked. “I’m top of my class.”

“A work ethic, son,” his father said. “It’ll do you good.”

“I’m top of my class,” Sebastian repeated. He had a sneaking suspicion what this was about, but he pushed it away. They couldn’t be. Absolutely not. “I do sports. I have a work ethic.”

“And we’re very proud of you for that,” his mother cooed. “But you don’t really have to be a good socializer for those.”

“Oh, I’m plenty socialized,” Sebastian muttered. His father chuckled.

“You’re a man about town,” his father said. “But we’re think more along the lines of … service industry.” Metaphorical lightning flashed. Sebastian shivered, eyes widening.

“You can’t be serious!”

“We’re very serious.”

“I won’t do it,” Sebastian snapped, crossing his arms. “That is not befitting a Smythe.”

“Hard work is always befitting a Smythe,” his father said. “Really, son, I don’t know where you get these ideas that we’re trust fund idiots.”

“Speaking of,” his mother added. “No allowance.”

“What?!”

“Not until you get a job.” His dad got up, heading over to pour a drink for himself (scotch), his wife (vodka on the rocks), and Sebastian (room temperature apple juice). Sebastian accepted it with a moue of disgust. Why were his parents torturing him like this?

“Can’t you just find me an internship at a law firm?” Sebastian asked his dad, who chuckled, shaking his head.

“No son. Is that the kind of attitude we’ve raised in you?” He shook his head again. “Your first job should be your own. After that, you’ll see how rewarding it is to make your own way in the world. You don’t want people to just  _give_  you things, do you?”

Oh, but Sebastian did. He wanted them all to give so he could take, take, and  _take_.

“But—”

“Trust me,” his dad continued, raising his glass. “You’re a Smythe. And we Smythes love a challenge.”

That they did.

Sebastian, knowing he had lost but hating to verbally concede, turned on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him. A challenge? Sebastian would show them. If they wanted hard work, he'd give them the exact opposite. He would get the least challenging job possible, and coast by. Then maybe they’d see you didn’t need a ‘work ethic’ when you were a prime example of humanity.

Really, people would be knocking down his door to hire him.

\--

The job search was frustrating. Sebastian refused to admit to the irony, and ignored all the "Not quite what we're looking for" and "Incredibly under-qualified" and "This is the resume of a twelve-year-old" he got. After some resume tweaking (i.e. blatant lies claiming that yes, he  _had_ been a barista, a children’s soccer coach, and a bank intern — he figured that covered all his bases, summer-job wise) and flirting outrageously with every manager and interviewer he came across, he got something. And not just the number of a handful of cougars and one middle-aged man in a toupée.

The job was in your typical young-skewing bar/pub, about two wide stories, called  _The Black Rook_. Sebastian said he was willing to get his bartending license, and one thing led to another, and suddenly he was working somewhere above minimum wage (learning it could go lower had been scarier than half the horror movies he had seen. Thank god he was rich.) So, with his coasting plan in mind, he turned up to work dressed casually and with full intention of nipping off to sample the merchandise as soon as possible.

Until he met Blaine Anderson, that was.

\--

“Hi, I’m Blaine,” the boy greeted with a wide smile, surveying their little rag-tag bunch. Sebastian, sulking in the back, snorted at his enthusiasm but had to admit that Blaine was  _definitely_  his type. Maybe he could be Sebastian’s hobby this summer. “I’ve been asked to give you guys a little introduction to the wonderful world of working in a bar.”

Sebastian could think of one kind of working you could do in a bar that might be fun, and it didn’t include cleaning up spilled drinks and vomit.

“Let’s go around and introduce ourselves first though, alright?” Blaine turned to face the first there, smiling at her kindly as she blushed. “Why don’t you start?”

“I’m Suzy,” she said, hands twisting. “Suzy Pepper.”

Blaine smiled. “Lovely to meet you, Suzy.” Then he nodded to the next person, and the rest of the introductions followed that format from what Sebastian could tell through his lack of caring. After a dog’s age, he rocked back on his heels (didn’t he just look the perfect height for Sebastian to press down underneath him?) and peered at Sebastian. “And you in the back?”

“Sebastian Smythe,” Sebastian drawled, pushing up off the wall and giving Blaine a pointed once over. “Absolutely charmed to be here. I can’t wait to work up a sweat, you know, really service my fellow man.” He added another once over and a lick to his lips, just in case Blaine was the type whose career ambitions ended at a bar.

Blaine blushed. It was intensely provocative, and Sebastian was provoked. Provocated? He’d have to look that up in case it came up in witty and sultry dialogue.

“That’s nice,” Blaine said after clearing his throat. “I’m always glad to see … enthusiasm in our new workers.”

“I aim to please,” Sebastian said, smirk growing.

“Well.” Blaine clapped his hands together suddenly, cheeks still pink. “Let’s go over the basics. You won’t all be working the same shifts, but not much changes except for how busy we are and what’s offered in the kitchens, depending on the time of day …”

The rest of the tour was fairly boring for Sebastian, who knew the bar/club scene better than he knew his own house. Mentally noting to switch house out for mansion if he needed to make that crack to Blaine, he started to catalogue the price range of the house liquor. Pathetic. He had pricier stuff under his bed and knew he was better than this place — but sadly, for some reason the nicer places just refused to hire Sebastian after meeting him.

They finished off with Blaine showing them the precise way to set up salt/pepper/ketchup if they were asked for. Sebastian spent that thrilling session admiring how Blaine’s shoulders filled out his polo. “Any questions?” Blaine asked.

 _Do you swallow?_  was on the tip of Sebastian’s tongue, but he nobly bit it back. Truthfully, he just wanted this dull training session to be over with; it was like game tutorials you couldn’t skip.

“Um,” a nervous boy raised his hand. “If they run out of ketchup, do we take it away and fill it up, or give them a new one, or…”

Sebastian groaned, perhaps louder than he should have. He got some glares, to which he replied with a quick, “Sorry, nervous tic.”

Hah. As if. Sebastian didn’t  _get_  nervous.

“That’s a good question, Anthony,” Blaine said. “Just bring them another bottle from the kitchen, and after closing one of you will take the time to refill the old bottle.”

“Thanks,” Athon-whatever said gratefully, as if Blaine had just rescued his whole family from a house fire. Sebastian bit back another of his ‘nervous tics.’

“Well if there are no more questions …” Blaine looked around, then clapped his hands together with a bright grin. “Then training is over. I have your shifts printed out here, based on the information you gave us during the application process. If there are any problems, you can speak to me afterwards.”

The schedules were handed out. Sebastian noted he was working that night, though he had some free time beforehand. While normally the loss of his own night out would be annoying, this way he could get started on Blaine. By closing time, the world’s hottest assistant manager could be coming home with him.

He sent a smirk at Blaine, hoping to convey just that, and Blaine smiled back.

\--

He came back to work ready to flirt, and ended up being assigned to clean the tables. Which, naturally, sucked. He decided to dedicate his time to his hobby instead.

“So,” Sebastian said, sinking into a seat next to where Blaine was wiping down the bar. To really give the impression of friendly equality, he’d have to be near eye-level with Blaine, not hovering over him like the tall and devastatingly sexy man he was. That could be saved for later. “What brings you to a place like this?”

“I work here,” Blaine replied, eyebrows raised. “And so do you. You really shouldn’t sit on customer’s seats, Sebastian.”

“Is this what’s considered a ‘firing offence’?” Sebastian asked.

“Not really.”

“Then I’m fine right where I am,” Sebastian said, nudging Blaine with his knee. “Why don’t you sit too? We can get to know each other, you know, foster a  _close_  working relationship.”

“I have to work, and so do you,” Blaine said. His nose scrunched up slightly. God, the cute ones were so  _hot_. “Not working, by the way,  _is_  a fireable offence.”

“Fine, fine,” Sebastian got to his feet, bracing himself against the countertop as he loomed over Blaine, who looked him up, up and down and back up again in a way that told Sebastian all he needed to know. He grinned, reaching over to run his fingers down Blaine’s hand, enjoying the way Blaine shivered at the touch. “I can work very, very hard,” Sebastian murmured, as he gently slid the cloth out from under Blaine’s now-lax fingers.

“I,” Blaine blinked, then blushed slightly. “Yes, um, that’s very good. You take over wiping down the bar, and I’ll go make sure Suzy understands how to refill the receipt printer.” And with that, Blaine jumped away from him and walked away a bit too fast, and Sebastian watched him go with great relish.

Wiping down the bar was a simpleton’s task, and Sebastian once again marvelled at the fact that he had needed a resume to apply for this. Children could do this. In fact, children should be doing this, so those old enough to drink could do so instead of working. Damn those child labour laws, letting those little bastards off easy.

Sebastian needed a drink.

Sneaking a glance at Blaine (who was behind the counter and helping an obviously flustered Suzy) Sebastian lifted up the partition and slid behind the bar, eyes on the alcohol. Ten steps to deliciousness. He walked them. Well, twelve steps. Yes, haha. He was just wrapping his hand around a bottle of jack when he heard his name being called. Turning innocently, he smirked at Blaine’s offended face.

“What?”

“You can’t  _drink_  on the job, Sebastian!”

“Who says I’m doing that?”

“The bottle in your hand?” Sebastian looked down. Oh yeah.

“I was going to bring it to Suzy over there. I thought she could use a pick-me-up after you harassed her about the receipt thing.” He threw Suzy one of his best charming looks, and she replied by her working her funny face in a funny way and turning beet red. Ugh. That was officially way more time than Sebastian ever intended to spend checking out a girl. He turned his attention back to Blaine, who had his eyebrows quirked, lush mouth set in a pouty frown. Much better.

“Harassed?” Blaine looked over at Suzy. “I didn’t mean to be hard on you, Suzy. It’s okay, everyone has trouble with the receipt cartridge at first.” He spoke soothingly, sincerely, and god this guy was a total sap. Sebastian couldn’t wait to tap it. Tap for it?

_Note to self: ask a Canadian the proper terminology._

_Edited Note to Self: scratch that, nobody wants to talk to Canadians. Ask Google._

“It’s okay,” Suzy said. “I wasn’t feeling harassed. So sweet of you to help me though, Sebastian.” She was probably fluttering her lashes at him; Sebastian wouldn’t know, he was too busy not looking at her. His life was already improving because of that choice.

“Doing what I can.” Sebastian set the bottle down. “I’ll get back to work then.”

“I’ll help!” Suzy offered, and was at his side in a flash.

“Actually, Suzy, I need you to go check our supply closet and see if we need to order more receipt paper …” Blaine nodded. Supply closet? More like  _make out_  closet. Sebastian needed to get Blaine in there some time.

“Well, alright then,” Suzy said, voice edging into frosty. “You’re the boss.” She stalked off, but not before brushing against Sebastian’s arm. God, it was hard being so desirable.

“And then there were two,” Sebastian said to Blaine, who laughed.

“Not about to frizzle up in the sun, are you?”

“No. I tan exceptionally well.” Sebastian quirked a brow.

“Well, I—”

They were cut off by a guy taking a seat at the bar. “Bottle of Corona,” he snapped.

Sebastian opened his mouth to snap right back, but Blaine only smiled and said, “Coming right up.” As he went to retrieve that from the fridge, Sebastian watched him go, because damn that was quite the view.

“Hey, hey, buddy.” Sebastian turned, giving the man a look of distaste.

“Yes?”

“Can I have a coaster?” Sebastian looked. There was a whole stack of them in a holder not a foot away from the guy’s elbow. Customer knows best? Clearly, whoever said that never actually met one of them. After weighing the cost-benefit ratio of actually getting it, Sebastian decided to coast and tossed the guy a coaster. It bounced, and fell down onto his lap.

“You think you’re funny, man?” The guy growled, slamming his palms on the counter. “What kind of service is that?”

“It slipped. Or do you have eye problems?” Sebastian replied coolly. He didn’t add that he’d let it slip again, right down that guy’s throat if he kept whining.

“You—”

“I’m sorry, he’s new,” Blaine said, returning with a coaster and drink that he sat before the guy. “You know how it is.” The guy nodded, and settled back.

“Don’t let it happen again,” he mumbled, but the fire was gone.

“We won’t,” Blaine promised, and then turned to face Sebastian. “Hey, do you think you could help me with something in the back?”

Sebastian started. Wow, he hadn’t even done anything and Blaine was either about to fire him or fuck him. The guy must be prone to snap judgements.

“Sure.”

They retreated to the back, past the kitchens into an office, Blaine tagging off with the bartender (“Sam”) who had just come in. Once they were alone, Blaine explained, “I got my start as a bartender and I’m licensed to serve, but I’m technically supposed to be everywhere. I’m only behind the bar during busy hours or during the ten minute-gap between Puck leaving and Sam coming in.”

“Sounds like you got  _all_  your bases covered,” Sebastian said, aiming somewhere between flattery and ‘hey, can you tell I’m making an innuendo?’ Blaine smiled, ducking his head. “So what’s up, Killer?”

“Um,” Blaine stared at him. “That nickname’s not very appropriate for the workplace, Sebastian. Blaine will do.”

Oh yes. Blaine  _would_  do.

“Blaine,” Sebastian purred, edging closer. Blaine started going a bit pink. Sebastian smirked. “What did you want to talk about?”

Hopefully, it was the kind of talk that had a very happy ending. As in, not getting fired. Orgasms would be awesome too.

“Well.” Blaine straightened, and crossed his arms. Suddenly the bouncy, bashful boy who had been around until now was replaced by a very stern face. And when those brows furrowed, you knew they meant business. “You have got to lose the attitude, Sebastian. I saw how you handled that customer and it wasn’t appropriate. None of your conduct so far has been appropriate. I’m all for giving first-time workers a chance, but you are working through that chance very quickly. I need you to start behaving like you actually belong in customer service, or I’m going to replace you with a more deserving applicant. Remember that when it comes to jobs like these, everyone is replaceable.”

Ooh. So the kitten had claws. Killer was more appropriate than ever. Still, Sebastian couldn’t take this lying down.

“I only handled one customer,” Sebastian argued. “I handed him a coaster. How can you tell all that now? I don’t think you’re giving me a chance at all.”

“You learn to spot who won’t work very quickly.” Blaine shook his head. “And it’s not just that. I know this environment is more casual than others, but you can’t flirt with your coworkers like you’ve been doing.” Was that a plural? As if Blaine wasn’t the only one who wasn’t a total dog. “Or try to drink. Or steal a fry from the kitchens like I saw you do on the tour. And not wash the tables? You sort of messed everything up, actually.”

“Fine,” Sebastian said, holding back an eye roll but making sure it was in his tone. “I won’t have  _fun_  anymore. I’ll be here to work and nothing else.”

“Good.” Blaine held the firm expression for a beat more, then relaxed. He smiled at Sebastian. “I’m glad we had this talk. I do hope you learn to have fun in an  _appropriate_  manner soon.”

“I don’t think there is such thing as ‘appropriate’ fun,” Sebastian drawled in reply.

“You might be surprised.” Blaine moved past Sebastian for the open door. “I need to call the bands we’re booking for the weekend, and you need to take your station. The happy hour rush is coming.”

Sebastian turned, nodded, but didn’t move. When Blaine looked at him, he said, “Quick question.”

“Yes?”

“Flirting is off-limits during work, but what about afterwards?”

Blaine did roll his eyes.

“Get to work, Sebastian.”

Hmm.

Perhaps sleeping with Blaine Anderson would be harder than he thought.  _It’s not like he’s worth it_ , Sebastian thought for all of two seconds, until his eyes reminded him of what he was looking at, Blaine turning to go and hell, even his profile was hot.

Screw a simple hobby; it was in that moment that Sebastian found what his  _real_  summer challenge would be. 


	2. Don't Go Too Deep With It Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This second chapter doubles as a contribution to Seblaine Weekend. [TUMBLR LINK](http://boldmistakes.tumblr.com/post/65960047672/with-the-jack-and-the-jukebox-seblaine-2-3).

The point of a challenge was, of course, that it taxed you. The labours of Hercules couldn’t be pulled off by just anybody (well, maybe that bird scaring one …) and only Gordon Ramsay could truly fix all the problem kitchens in the world. It took a certain kind of person to step up to the plate and hit the homerun, a certain kind of man to slide into homebase, and it took very specifically _Sebastian_ to do the best victory lap the world had ever seen.

Now if only he could get up to bat.

Five weeks. _Five weeks_ , and Blaine was still as untapped as ever. Sebastian had been forced to actually apply himself at work, because something had clearly gone horribly wrong in Blaine’s childhood that made him want to give everyone verbal gold star stickers for the completion of the most minor of tasks. Between that and the strange, and strangely arousing, attraction to sweater vests Blaine had, Sebastian wouldn’t be surprised if he was aiming to be a kindergarten teacher.

He had expressed this thought to Blaine once. The reply he had gotten:

“Really? Thank you! Children are our future, and I’ve always wanted to help others. I could consider a career change!”

Sebastian was almost concerned by how much he wanted to fuck the guy. Still, he did want to, and no matter the mounting difficulty of the task at hand, Sebastian never backed down from a test of skill. And he had all the skills he needed; now, if he could just get Blaine to stand still long enough to be wooed instead of running around like Little Bunny Foo-Foo, he would be victorious and claim his bowtie-wrapped prize.

Sebastian Smythe saw, came, and conquered over every challenge, and Blaine Anderson would be no exception.

\--

There were three bartenders that Sebastian acquainted himself with. Puck, who had the look of someone you could sidle up to on a park bench, slide a fifty, and leave with either a stain in your underwear or some passable weed. Sam, who was Blaine’s best friend for life forever and made an attempt to deliver an impression with every drink; rum and coke with a side of Dubya was disconcertingly popular. Last and certainly not least (if only because she could actually carry on a passable conversation, unlike the other two) was Santana. She was like Sebastian in a sexy, naughty, bitchy kind of way, but he wouldn’t call them friends -- and not just because she made him compare himself to a Tata Young song.

Still, in a sea of idiots, plebes, and sycophants, Santana Lopez certainly stood out. Sebastian was coming to realize Blaine ruled the bar with a fiendishly friendly dictatorial fist, but Santana didn’t stand for it. Where everyone else fell all over themselves for Blaine (except Suzy, who was a touch cool), Santana tended to laugh in his face and think drinking on the job totally was acceptable. So they ‘hung out,’ as it were.

“I mean, is he just a prude?” Sebastian asked, sitting at the second-story bar. He had a glass of vodka in front of him. “He doesn’t drink, he doesn’t fuck me … what else could it be?”

“He’s a lightweight,” Santana disparaged. “I don’t know if it’s because he’s the size of a large housecat or fairies like him only drink dewdrops in the dusky summer evening or some shit, but he totally is. Like, two beers and he can’t walk straight.”

“If only he was a two beer queer,” Sebastian groused. “I’d have more luck then.”

“Probably. You suck,” Santana told him. “I’ve met piss-scented octogenarians on cruises with more game than you.”

“Good to know where your tastes lie.” Sebastian cocked an eyebrow. “Tell me, is changing their diapers after the most exciting part?”

“Ew.” Santana shuddered. “Why so eager for details, Perv Swerve?”

“Details on what?” They turned to see Blaine standing there, having undoubtedly sniffed out that they were not working. He had an eerie sixth sense for that.

“Infantilism? Watersports? I don’t know, ask Sebby here. He’s the one who brought it up.”

Sebastian sighed, then deliberately knocked his drink over onto her front. She shrieked. Blaine was staring at them like he regretted every decision in his life that had led him to that point. A couple cozy in the corner glanced over, nervously turning away from them.

“Oops,” Sebastian said drily. “I suppose the fates took issue with you lying.” He glanced at Blaine. “She was lying. Unless--?” He gazed expectantly at Blaine, who continued to stare, before yelping and shaking his head.

“God, no! Now get back to work!” Blaine turned as if to go, then returned his gaze. “Or you’re fired.”

“Just try to fire me!” Santana shouted after him as he stormed off. The couple shrank back even further. Sebastian gave her a look.

“You know, I’m on thin ice as it is. You don’t need to push him.”

“Please.” Santana continued to rub at her front. “I’ve never heard him threaten to fire anyone as much as you, but you’re still here. I bet, deep down, he likes you. God knows why.”

“Deep, deep down,” Sebastian replied. “I can’t deny he wants to do me, but liking? That’s a bit much.”

“He isn’t just a lightweight with beer, you know,” Santana said. “He’s pathetic about feelings too. He wouldn’t do sex without some kind of liking.”

“Then I am screwed. And not in a fun way.” Sebastian grinned at her. “Want me to cover the bar while you go dry off?” Sebastian _had_ gotten certified to bartend. He had hoped it would impress -- well.

“Fuck you,” Santana said, amiably, then went to do just that.

\--

Then, some nights later, Sebastian learned a little more about Blaine. It was a bustling Friday night near midnight when he seated a group of girls about his age.

“Hey.” Sebastian propped himself against the table with a practised laconic edge. “I’m your server. Let me serve you.” He winked.

Sebastian couldn’t be _nice_ to customers, but he sure could flirt with ‘em.

The girls at the table cascaded into giggles, one going “Mr-oooowr” loudly as her birthday tiara slid along her messy blonde hair. It was clearly not their first stop of the evening.

“So have you had enough time with the menu?” Sebastian leaned into the space of a girl with brown hair. She might as well have rings painted on her face, she seemed such an easy target.

“Y-yes,” said the girl, who gave him a lingering look despite her stuttered words. “I think I’ll just have water.”

Dammit. No money in that. And Sebastian wanted to get each drink tip out of them he could. “Are you sure? Our bartender makes a mean cocktail.”

“C’mon, Marley, don’t be so boring!” Birthday girl protested, and their other friends echoed this. “It’s my party! You do what I say!” She revealed she also had a birthday scepter, which she pointed at Marley and Me threateningly. `

“Okay Kitty …” Marley squinted at the menu. “I’ll have a Climax.”

“I can give you one,” Sebastian purred, smirking as she went red, then glanced at the other girls. None of them looked like virgins, so a more sophisticated touch was needed. “And you ladies? A Sex on the Beach, maybe? Or a Tie Me To The Headboard?”

Classy and careful, that was Sebastian to a T.

“Unique’ll have a Hurricane,” said the girl who had strolled in wearing heels so high Sebastian had felt dwarfed. He wondered if she’d fall over leaving; that would be _hilarious_. By far the second-best part of his job was watching people humiliate themselves.

The first best thing wore clamdiggers and sang Katy Perry while filing permits. Life was strange.

“I’ll have a -- hmm -- a whiskey sour,” said the girl to Unique’s left. “And, um, could you tell my Blainey-bear that Tina’s here?”

“Blaine’s not working tonight,” Sebastian replied swiftly. “Sorry.”

“Really? I swore his schedule said …” she laughed, loudly. “I’m Tina, his roommate.”

Naturally Blaine had roommates. Sebastian could never. He needed his 'me' time. Masturbatory and otherwise.

“Hm? Well, there was a shift change.” Sebastian shrugged. “What about you, birthday girl?”

“I’d rather sit on _fire ant tacks_ than live with Blaine.”

“I meant to drink.”

“Cosmo, round of vodka shots, four waters, and two plates of fries” Kitty commanded. “And call me Queen Cat, stork legs.”

Sebastian gave her a wide smile, and resolved to spit in her drink.

“Alright, I’ll be right back.” Sebastian grabbed the extra menus, then took off for the kitchens. He delivered the order, poured the waters, dropped them off at the table (overhearing Kitty declaring “And then his brakes gave out and we started rolling down the hill--”) then headed to the bar. Sam nodded at him.

“Hey man.” Sam did a flip with his shaker, and the couple watching him applauded. “I’m busy, can you do your own?”

“If I must.” With a shake of his head he got his ingredients out, making each drink in turn, keeping an eye on the doorway leading to the back. As he finished pouring the last shot, the door started to swing open and he caught a tell-tale glimpse of ankles. He hastily picked up the tray and arrested Anthony on his way by. “Bring these to table four, Andy.”

Not waiting for a reply, he shoved the tray at Anthony and took off toward the door, getting there in time to trap Blaine against it as it swung close. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Blaine breathed out, eyes wide, then his shoulders settled. It was a move Sebastian had gotten annoyingly familiar with, these past few weeks. That was what Blaine always did when he remembered Sebastian was dangerously tempting and rejected him. Sebastian wasn’t even personally hurt; he was merely worried, in the most altruistic of ways, about what that kind of start-and-stop stress that put on Blaine. It would be so much healthier if he would just give in. “Could you not block the doorway?”

“I’ve got a question.”

“Yes?” Blaine crossed his (lovely) arms.

Sebastian glanced over his shoulder at table four, then back at Blaine. “I’ve forgotten, what do we do if a customer asks for water?”

“Uh, give them it?”

“But is ice water?”

“Yes is ice water?” Clearly Blaine thought Sebastian had retorted to caveman speak to match his hot masculinity. “It’s more refreshing.” He shifted, pupils wide as he traced how close Sebastian was, who couldn’t help but let his arm drop a bit, cloistering them in more.

“I mean, could I give a customer a glass full of ice?”

“You could,” Blaine said, hand landing on Sebastian’s arm. He didn’t push, and Sebastian tried to hold back a smirk. No one could resist his biceps. “You could also get fired.”

“Ah, ah, but according to the properties of solidification, ice must be denser than water, so we’re really giving them more _bang_ \--” Sebastian cocked his hip to the side, and Blaine watched, licking his lips “--for their buck.”

“No, ice wouldn’t float if that was true. It expands when it solidifies.” Blaine was, Sebastian had come to find, quite bright. _To match his shining personality_ , Sebastian thought, for all of three seconds before he wanted to punch himself in the face. “So in interest of fairness, let’s give them all the liquid water they want.”

Blaine was all about fair play, of course. He probably didn’t peek in the envelope during _Clue_ or park in Reserved for Women Spawning spaces.

“Well, thanks for clearing that up for me,” Sebastian said, stepping away to push open the swinging door to the back. Blaine’s hand sadly fell away. “You’re going this way, right?”

“No?” Blaine blinked, oh-so-cutely confused, and Sebastian smirked.

“You see--”

“Is that Tina?” Blaine ducked under Sebastian’s arm -- the small ones were always difficult to wrangle, and yep, now he would be caught up in thoughts of wrangling Blaine all night long -- and grinned at table four. “Oh, it is. She said she might come by with the girls.”

“Is that so?”

“She didn’t ask for me?” Blaine half-turned to look at Sebastian. “She knows I’d give them a discount.”

Sebastian did his best to look innocently surprised. As he couldn’t hide that he was sly and cunning like a fox, it didn’t totally work.

“Maybe she forgot about you,” Sebastian suggested. It was a foolish thought, to be sure; Blaine was the kind of person, good or bad, you only forgot about via an anvil to the head.

“Hmm.” Blaine was suspicious. “You wouldn’t have been worried about that, and hoping to get more of a tip, would you?”

“Of course not!” Sebastian said. “I mean, just because I’m currently winning in the tip race …”

Not that that was much to brag about. The rest of his fellow summer workers had no game. Suzy Pepper in particular apparently unnerved customers with her heavy breathing, psychotic rantings, and habit of setting glasses down too loudly.

“Yes, you have no motive.” Blaine quirked a brow. It drew focus. Those charming little eye hats tended to.

“Absolutely none.” Sebastian shrugged. “Honestly, once she called you 'Blainey-bear,' I thought your beard had arrived. I was consumed with jealousy.”

“You know, I’ve never actually told you I’m gay,” Blaine said, amused. “You really shouldn’t assume.” Sebastian, equally amused, patted Blaine on the shoulder.

“Oh, Blaine. Creation wouldn’t make a man like you unavailable to a man like me.” Sebastian took in all those scenic points of interest on the _tour de Blaine_ , starting with that plush mouth and ending around that sumptuous ass. Blaine went red. “It would be too cruel,” Sebastian finished, a wicked smile curling his lips.

“Sebastian,” Blaine said, turning to fully face him. His warning tone that told Sebastian he’d gone too far. (Again.) Sebastian removed his hand. “I am unavailable to you. I mean, I’m gay, but--”

“Are you seeing someone?” Sebastian had the ticket for that. “It doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you.”

“What? If it bothered me, would you suddenly grow a conscience and leave me alone? What does that even mean?”

“I --” Sebastian paused. “Good question. It is pretty nonsensical. Might be why it never works.”

Crap. Shouldn’t have said that out loud. Sebastian was supposed to _suave_.

“Now that’s some refreshing honesty.” Blaine grinned. “I’ve got to go say hi to Tina, and tell them they get the discount. Do they have anything waiting?”

“Fries.”

“Then go get that.” Blaine flapped a hand at him, and went to leave. Sebastian was watching him go, and so he was expectant when Blaine turned back. “Oh, and Sebastian? I don’t have a boyfriend.”

With a wink, Blaine was gone. Sebastian leaned back against the wall, just the littlest bit dazed.

What had _that_ been?

When Sebastian approached the table again a while later, after Blaine had left, he found that the girls had worked their way through their drinks and Kitty was saying, “Curved? Yes, curved …”

“As long as it’s big, I do not care,” Tina said, raising her empty glass, then frowning. “More drank is needed.”

“More drank,” Unique agreed, and Marley chimed in with a slurred agreement that sounded like “modrunk.”

“I believe I can help with that,” Sebastian leaned forward, and began collecting their glasses. “So what’ll it be?” Tina hissed a bit, but they all ordered except Kitty, who was contemplating the menu. “Princess?”

“Queen Cat!” Kitty said sharply, but blinking slowly. “Are you stupid? Oh my god, do you need help?”

Sebastian considered her, then plastered a wide smile on his face.

“Congratulations!” He chirped.

“What?”

“I mean, Queens are the cats that get knocked up, aren’t they?” He slid her glass away. “Maybe you shouldn’t be drinking.” Unique and Tina _ooh_ ed lowly, and Marley bit her knuckle.

“Hmm.” Kitty gave him a once-over. “Not bad. I like you, an’am I’m going to tip you.”

Then she laid her head on the table, and by all appearances, went to sleep.

Yet when they all eventually stumbled out at closing time -- Blaine reappearing to give them kisses on the cheek goodbye -- Sebastian did indeed get a generous tip. Certainly, Blaine’s friends weren’t the _worst_. (It must be elevation by association.) After they were gone, he turned to Blaine.

“You know … your friend approved of me.” Sebastian smiled winningly.

“Which one?”

“Queen Kitty-Cat.”

“Trust me Sebastian.” Blaine clapped him on the back. “That’s not a good thing.”

“Tina?”

“Probably worse.”

“Unique?”

“Could go either way.”

“Marley?”

“Well if that was true …” Blaine smiled, flicked his gaze along Sebastian’s body, then let that trail off. “Let’s clean up, shall we?” And, swear to god, there was the slightest twitch to his hips as he left.

That was when Sebastian realized Blaine Anderson was not a prude but rather a feisty little flirt, and this game wasn’t as one-sided as he thought.

\--

Santana and Blaine both weren’t working one slow day, and Sebastian was bored. This was a dangerous state for him, and to avoid doing something he might _actually_ get fired for, he decided to occupy his time with flexing for himself in the bathroom mirror.

That was when Suzy Pepper slid up behind him.

“Gross,” Sebastian said, eyes going to the top of the mirror to avoid her gaze. Seriously, that face should come with a warning.

“I know this is the little boy’s room --”

“Don’t call it that. It’s creepy.”

“The big boy’s room?”

“Creepier.”

“The boy’s bathroom! I know it’s the boy’s room … but I had to talk to you. About knowing people ...”

“Oh?” Sebastian snorted. “Did Andy send you?”

“Um. Anthony?”

“Yeah, him. Tell him it would be easier for him to change his birth certificate then ask me to call him that.” Sebastian peered at the mirror, checking his teeth. “You and Andy are friends, right?”

“No … I don’t have any friends.”

“There’s a shocker.”

“And you know … you’re the only guy for me,” Suzy breathed. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you. To tell you. I _know_ you. And we _belong_ together.”

“We’ve never talked?”

“I can feel your _soul_ ,” Suzy whispered, hands sliding up Sebastian’s back. He stepped back, right onto her feet, and as she hissed and stumbled back to hit the wall he snorted.

“Please. That’s ridiculous.” Sebastian turned, and tried to grab her shoulders. As he was still staring at the wall and not her, he managed to grab first her at her chest ( _ugh_ ) then her head before settling on his target.

“It’s true!” Suzy argued, gasping in delight as Sebastian touched her.

Pretty typical reaction for Sebastian to get from people, really.

“Really? You think we really have some deep, intimate connection?”

“Yes! Oh, yes!”

“Well I’ve got something to confess to you too …” Sebastian squeezed her shoulders, watching the way her hairband bow jiggled as she head bobbed in excitement. He missed _Blaine’s_ bows. “We don’t, you’re crazy, I’m way out of your league, and nobody will ever want to touch you because you’re disgusting.”

Suzy sniffed. “You don’t mean that!”

“Pretty sure I do.” Sebastian rewound, replayed, and considered his words. “Yep, definitely. Leave me alone or I’ll send my dad after you. He’s a state attorney.”

Satisfied he had covered all his bases, Sebastian let her go. _Note: Need to wash hands thoroughly before leaving the bathroom. Well. More than usual._ Hygiene was important, kids.

“I love you!” Suzy blurted out desperately. “And you love me!”

Sebastian threw back his head and laughed.

“In your dreams, Salt-and-Pepa.” Suzy ran out, sobbing, and Sebastian started to whistle a cheerful tune as he scrubbed at his hands. That was that handled, then. With a final wink at the mirror -- still looking good -- he left to go check if any customers had money to give him.

\--

A week later, Sebastian had a day off and decided to spend it in the park, feeding ducks. Soothing. Secretive. Good way to pick up oversensitive PETA-loving mama boys who were desperate to get laid and therefore had no standards. Despite this, when an oversensitive PETA-loving mama boy who was desperate to get laid and therefore had no standards started making eyes at him across the pond, he didn’t go over. Instead he found himself wondering if the great flaw in his seducing of Blaine was that he hadn’t yet tried approaching him outside of work.

It wouldn’t be that hard, really. Blaine was a “cool” boss and therefore liked to share little details about himself, before threatening to fire Sebastian if he shared details about his own life. (Was it really Sebastian’s fault if his life was R-rated?) Blaine’s favourite coffee place was two blocks away. His apartment was on the fourth floor and the neighbour across the street even with him really loved practicing his fly fishing out the window. His roommates were Tina and Sam, and he was a year older than Sebastian, so he had just graduated and he lived near his school. With a profile like that, Sebastian could track him down easily.

Some people could do backflips, swear in over twenty languages, or ride unicycles. Sebastian could do all those things, _and_ had a knack for following people.

That in mind, Sebastian threw the rest of the duck feed in the pond and left. He drove down to where the coffee shop -- _Angie’s Best_ \-- was, entering it on a chance. It was Blaine’s day off, but he was there, sipping a coffee by the window and reading.

Oh yeah. Sebastian had this.

He ordered, and once his cognac-laden coffee was in hand he headed over and dropped into a seat across from Blaine. “Hey, Killer.”

Blaine glanced up, startled, cheeks flushing.

“I--” He recovered well, though. “I thought I told you not to call me that.”

“No, you said it wasn’t right for work. This is a neutral space.” Sebastian took a sip, then grinned at Blaine’s expression. “Our Switzerland.”

“Our Switzerland,” Blaine echoed. He leaned forward. “Did you stalk me across the mountains, then?”

“Well, some guy at work -- can’t remember who -- just can’t shut up about how much he loves the coffee here. I had to see for myself.” Sebastian shrugged. “You being here is a coincidence.”

“Uh-huh.” A smile flitted across Blaine’s face. “What are you studying at school, Sebastian?”

“Pre-law,” Sebastian replied, eyebrow going up. Blaine had never asked about him like that before.

“Makes sense. You’ve got a way with words.” Blaine took a sip of his coffee, eyes surveying Sebastian over the rim. _Ah_. So Blaine let his flirtiness truly unleash outside _The Black Rook._

“They say the way to a man’s heart is through his mouth,” Sebastian licked his lips, then took a sip, watching how Blaine’s eyes traced that even as he gave a startled laugh.

“For a future lawyer, that wasn’t very clear.” At Sebastian’s look, Blaine elaborated. “I mean, there are more than a few things that could fit that -- his mouth? -- so do you care to specify?”

Truly, the prince was free of the castle.

“I could, but it’s a shame to pick just one thing.” Sebastian tapped the lid of his drink. “Maybe a hands-on demonstration of our options would be best?”

“Now you want to play doctor? Is there anything you can’t do?” Teasing smile, eyes catching the light, and god Sebastian had never considered a summer fling before but suddenly it was entirely possible. If you broke up by September it wasn’t _feelings_ , that was the rule. Described in a book. Somewhere.

“I’m multi-talented,” Sebastian agreed, after a brief pause. “Also devastatingly handsome. Sometimes, god gives with both hands, as I’m sure you know.” He winked. Blaine ducked his head, grinning widely.

“You’re easy with compliments,” Blaine noted.

“I’m just easy,” Sebastian returned.

“That’s honest.”

“Well, it’s that or Puritanical notions about sex, and really, life’s too short and fucking too fun.” Sebastian contemplated Blaine, and decided things were going well, he might as well fire some shots and see what penetrated. As it were. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’d like to sleep with you before I die.”

Blaine glanced away, laughing. “Oh my god. You’re unbelievable.”

“It’s been said.”

“You know, before you die is a pretty big timeframe.”

“No, I think I might be dying right now,” Sebastian explained, hand against his chest. “I might just keel over. I have the _worst_ blue balls, and as an honorary doctor, I can say that’s trouble.”

“You don’t need me to help you with that.” Blaine bit his lip, then added, “Self-medicate.”

He had just been alluded-told to jerk off by Blaine Anderson in a coffee shop, and it was _so hot_. This must be a named kink.

“No, I’m afraid I need someone else’s helping hand. It’s better with two.”

Blaine leaned back, chin raising, and there was a bit more of assistant manager-Blaine there.

“I’m sure you can have your pick of guys,” Blaine said. “I’ve seen you go home with more than one customer already, which by the way, is not very appropriate work behaviour.”

Sebastian had. A whole bunch of useless guys who didn’t wear sweater vests and couldn’t appreciate the drink-based puns Sebastian made at them. It was tragically unsatisfying.

“And you’ll fire me, I know. Don’t get jealous, tiger, they weren’t worth my time.” Then, sincere and soft in a way Sebastian never was: “Not when I can’t get you out of my head.”

Fuck. Where had that come from?

Blaine looked as stunned as Sebastian felt. “That’s --”

“Your body, as it is …”

“Sebastian …” Blaine’s eyes were wide, fixed on Sebastian’s face. Sebastian Smythe did not squirm, but if he did, this would be a good time to do it. Blaine took a deep breath, then rushed out, voice strangled. “Sebastian, it’s not a good idea to fall for your boss, you know that right?”

“Fall for?” Sebastian laughed in disbelief. What? “What?” _What?_

“I --”

“What?”

Seriously, _what?_

“You -- you are, right?” Blaine did squirm, shoulders shifting as he sank down in his seat. “If it was just sex, it wouldn’t matter this much, right?”

“Right?” Sebastian prayed Blaine heard the question mark at the end of that, because Blaine was not right. He couldn’t be. A summer fling was just sex with companionship thrown in. That wasn’t _falling_ for someone, or it wouldn’t be over in the Fall. Duh. “No.”

“Okay, I’m sorry, but …”

“But nothing!” Sebastian straightened. “I am Sebastian Smythe. I don’t get crushes like a preteen girl with a trapper keeper. The only way you’re the man of my dreams is if you star in a dream of me fucking you.”

“That’s … very literal …” Blaine looked faint.

“Yeah, because I don’t do _whimsy_ ,” Sebastian got to his feet. “Whimsy is for people who cling to their childhood ideals. I am an _adult_. I am _responsible_.” He was suddenly furious, all over again, at his parents for trying to claim otherwise. He wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for them and their whole birthing and raising nonsense. “I am _Sebastian Smythe_.”

“Why do you say it like that?” Blaine looked concerned, guilty. “Maybe you should sit down, okay, _Sebastian Smythe_? We can talk it out. I think you’re -- misunderstanding me, I didn’t mean to offend, and I don’t want this interfering with us at work …”

“It won’t,” Sebastian said, through gritted teeth. “Because that would imply this means more than it does. Which is nothing. It means nothing.”

“Nothing.” Blaine’s eyebrows drew together.

“So you know what? Since you’re getting crazy ideas, I’ll lay off.” Sebastian began to retreat. “No more flirting. You take it too seriously. Unlike me.”

Then he left the coffee shop, ignoring Blaine calling after him, the way several patrons edged their chairs away from him, and the girl he bumped into on the way out. His heart was pounding in his ears.

It was when he had stormed off three blocks for the drama of it and forgotten his car that Sebastian came to a disgusting, horrifying, astoundingly terrible realization. Blaine _was_ right.

Well, shit.


	3. Me On My Way To You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to mothergoddamn and centuryofsleep on tumblr for contributing the John Wayne Gacy lines (love ya) and thanks to firsova for kicking my ass into gear. ♥ [TUMBLR LINK](http://boldmistakes.tumblr.com/post/84878787211/with-the-jack-and-the-jukebox-seblaine-3-4).

The live music that night was horrendous. Sebastian had been more aurally seduced by the sound of cats mating, garbage disposals working, and Ark Music Factory productions. After the stress of the past weeks, Sebastian didn’t need yet another reason to develop a headache, but there he was. Tossing back Advil while pointedly glaring at the stage. Wasn’t summer supposed to be _fun_?

“You okay?” That was Sam, wiping down the countertop. Sebastian sighed.

“No. That singer sounds like he just deepthroated a field of horses then ate peanut butter to soothe the ache. Who would be okay with that?”

“Deepthroating horses? Something you’re familiar with, huh?” That less than sympathetic question was from Santana, who appeared bearing a bowl of lime slices.

“Shouldn’t you be upstairs?”

“Don’t you have eyes?” Santana hefted the bowl of limes she carried. Sebastian flipped her off. “You’re in a bad mood, even for you -- what the hell’s the matter?”

“Can we stop asking questions?” Sam asked, then screwed his face up. “I mean … um, yeah. Stop asking questions. _Unless you can’t handle the truth._ ” Sebastian had heard a bar rumour that Blaine used to have a _thing_ for Sam. Yet another reason why Sebastian’s crush on Blaine was stupid because Blaine was stupid and absolutely not crush-worthy, even if he was hot as hell.

Hey. He was in denial, but he wasn’t blind.

“I can handle the truth just fine.” Sebastian nodded. “Truth is, this job was a mistake.”

“Then quit,” Santana said. “Please do, in fact. I’m tired of you and Blaine stealing looks at each other when you think the other isn’t looking. It’s physically repulsive to me.”

Blaine had been stealing looks, these terribly worried ones like he thought Sebastian was going to go all Suzy Pepper on him or break down crying like a baby queer watching _Rent_ for the first time.

“Blaine hasn’t been looking at him,” Sam protested. “Blaine has standards.”

Santana threw her head back, laughing. “Oh my god. Have you met Blaine?”

Sebastian was inclined to agree; see again: the Sam thing. Then again, if Blaine was willing to stoop that low but had still balked at the idea of any kind of emotional relevance to their flirting, then Sebastian really didn’t know what that said about him.

“Maybe … maybe I’m not the best person,” Sebastian said, rubbing his chin. The singer tried to hit a high note, wailing with the grating appeal of a student production of  _Hair_ ; he winced. _  
_

“Dude, you think?”

“And thank god for that.” Santana gave him a thumbs up, grinning widely. “The world needs more people like you and me, who have been knocked around by fate. ‘Cause then we can knock others around too!”

“Did you just butcher an _Avenue Q_ line at me?” Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “I thought Tegan and Sara was more your speed.”

“Hey, what’s good is good.” Santana began to move backwards. “But I have to tell you … when I see how sad you are, it definitely makes me happy.” She left, cackling to herself, and Sebastian frowned. The band was finally taking a break, but his mood wasn’t lifted.

“If I’m like her, then I don’t know how people stand me.”

“People don’t,” Sam said. “You’re like Magneto on a bad day.”

“Isn’t Magneto the evil one?” Sebastian was more of a DC guy. “He must have bad days all the time.”

That was Sebastian’s life, at the moment. Trying to be all professional at work, avoiding Blaine like he was a sensitivity seminar, and giving up on other fucks because he hadn’t been kidding when he said Blaine was on his mind all the time. And now the fucking pills weren’t working. Just fantastic.

“Magneto was evil. Then he was good. Then he was evil again. Then he was good. Then he was evil. Then he was good. Now he’s more of a chaotic neutral.”

“Is this what nerds sound like when they orgasm?”

“Point is, man, you can change,” Sam said. “Magneto always did, mostly because he was all in love with Professor X. Don’t be afraid to take over the X-Mansion for Blaine, dude.”

Love. Now that was crazy. At least there was a rock bottom Sebastian hadn’t yet hit.

“What, exactly, is the ‘X-Mansion’ in this scenario?”

Sam’s brow crinkled. “Um. Not being an asshole?”

“Hmm, I’ll think about it.” Sebastian nodded slowly, trying to not aggravate the pain. “Yeah, sorry. Not happening. The moral crisis is over. I’m not changing, and that’s that.”

“Much to learn, you have,” Sam intoned wisely. Sebastian levered himself off the bar stool.

“Before you embarass yourself anymore, I’m going home.” Sebastian sighed tiredly.

“Your shift’s not over yet.”

“I have only half an hour left,” Sebastian replied. The throbbing in his head spiked. “I feel like my head’s going to split, so I’m making like a banana.”

“And you think I’m embarrassing.” Sam propped his elbows up on the bar. “Go home, lie down. I’ll cover for you.”

“Thanks.” Sebastian waved absently, and headed back to the employee’s lounge to grab his stuff. He froze in the doorway though, because Blaine was there, tapping at his phone. Blaine was far too professional to text someone on the main floor. Why, it might cause a fire or something.

“Sebastian.” Blaine bit his lip, then glanced up at him. “How are you?”

Stay strong, Sebastian. Stay strong. Absolutely do not think about blowjobs. Have some goddamn dignity.

“Horny,” Sebastian replied, then instantly stomped on his own foot (internally.) “But not for you. I’m leaving early.”

“Oh.” Blaine stared.

Sebastian waited.

When nothing more came, Sebastian prompted, “Aren’t you going to threaten to fire me?”

“No,” Blaine said. “I think the bar wouldn’t be the same without your flirting.”

“I’m sorry, have I been flirting?” Sebastian crossed his arms. “I’ve been entirely professional.”

Well, not entirely, but _somebody_ needed to write ‘Santana Lopez likes penis’ on the bathroom stalls.

“I meant with the customers,” Blaine explained. “You’ve got … technique.”

“I know.” Sebastian moved past Blaine, leaving a clear space of a few feet between them, and stripped quickly out of his black work polo. Blaine made a little noise, and if Sebastian wasn’t so attuned to him he would have missed it; when he looked over his shoulder, Blaine’s eyes were fixed on the line of Sebastian’s back. Sebastian straightened, and Blaine’s eyes moved up the revealed skin to focus on Sebastian’s face. Their gazes held for a long moment, until Sebastian frowned and Blaine blushed, ducking his head. “Take a picture,” Sebastian advised, voice rough to his ears.

Dammit. He really should have gone into nude modelling. Then he’d be getting laid and had never heard the cursed name Blaine Anderson.

“I think I prefer it live,” Blaine said, feisty yet again. He was like a sandwich; sexy cushioned by bashful recently-graduated-schoolboy. And a nice set of buns.

Sebastian yanked on his own polo, making sure his collar was perfectly popped. he rounded on Blaine. “Okay. I’m getting some mixed signals, here.”

“What?”

“It’s like … do you want a piece of me? I feel like you’re the media and I’m the starlet here.”

Blaine shifted. “You’re a Britney fan?”

“Well, I _was_ alive in the nineties.” Sebastian’s arms crossed. “But still -- it’s a good song. I’ve even performed it once.”

Blaine shouldn’t be surprised. It was oh my god that Sebastian’s shameless, 24/7.

“You’re a singer?” Blaine glanced up. “You never mentioned that.”

“Surprise, surprise, I didn’t want to tell you my life story.” Sebastian advanced on him. His head continued to bang, but he couldn’t let this go. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“What question is that?”

“Are you sending me mixed signals?” Sebastian would take another step, but all that tall and devastatingly sexy hovering meant Blaine had to crane his head back; he may be mad at him but that didn’t mean he wanted Blaine to need a chiropractor. “Do you want to fuck or not?”

“I --” Blaine swallowed, and took a step nearer himself. “I would like to.”

“Yeah?” Sebastian leaned forward, uncrossing his arms so he could grab Blaine’s shoulders. It was like the incident with Suzy Pepper, except here Sebastian didn’t want to let go. Damn Blaine and his innocuous yet sexy body parts. “I’d like that too.”

“Okay,” Blaine breathed, shivering as Sebastian gave into a bit of temptation to stroke along his collarbone.

“But --” and Sebastian was letting go, because he was fast and he knew he could have his hand stroking something else in the next minute if he wasn’t careful “-- We’re not going to.”

Blaine spluttered. “You’re the one sending mixed signals! You said you wanted to before you got angry at me last week!”

“I got angry at you because it became obvious this can never happen.” Sebastian patted his pockets, checking to see if his wallet was still there.

“And why’s that? I want to!”

Blaine was horny. Cute. Sebastian felt like his own balls were punching him in the balls.

“I stopped trying to pick you up for a reason.” Sebastian sighed. “It’s clear you don’t want me the way I want you, if you’re going to bring feelings into it. Which is preposterous. To be clear. You aren’t right at all. So don’t think that.”

Blaine was staring, eyes narrowed.

“I’ve broken a lot of hearts just for fun--”

“Now it’s Marina?!”

“And it’s more trouble than it’s worth.” Sebastian was leaving, before this got any deeper. Talks about emotions were tiring. He should have been born a Vulcan. And get to have sex with Zach Quinto. “I don’t want to deal with another broken heart.”

Shit. Had that sounded like he referencing himself? As _if._  

He turned back around. “I wasn’t talking about myself with that melodramatic line, by the way. I hate everyone.”

Then, quiet but even:

“Do you hate me?”

Sebastian wasn’t stupid. He was incredibly intelligent, in fact. So he avoided that obvious trap done up in big eyes and bowties and walked right out, booking it back to his city apartment as fast as he could.

\--

After that, Blaine got … weird.

For example, when Sebastian was refilling a ketchup bottle, Blaine came up to him and said “You’ve got great pumping action.”

“Um.” Sebastian stared. “Thanks?”

“It’s just.” Blaine leaned forward, eyes intent. “Very firm grip.”

“I know?” Sebastian stared down at his hands. Had he been giving the bottle a handjob? Some things were just instinctual. But he wasn’t, and when he looked up, he found Blaine was smiling as if he had a secret.

“Anyways.” Blaine straightened. “I’ve got to … do something over there.” He pointed toward an empty corner of the bar, and then he was gone at a hurried clip.

Sebastian squinted. Now, compliments for a job well done were normal from the guy who probably was a Pep Squad champ in high school. It was the tone though, that certain cadence, the way Blaine had smiled -- he was sure that Blaine had been hitting on him.

Dammit. Clearly Sebastian’s bad boy act -- er, totally natural and gracefully sexy personality -- had not worked to put Blaine off. In fact, it probably just encouraged him more. Sometimes, being as attractive as Sebastian had its pitfalls.

Only sometimes, mind you.

“What’s that face for?” Puck asked, wandering up. “Dude, you going to hurl? Try to do it facing up. It’ll be fucking hilarious.”

“Only straight people would find missionary position hilarious,” Sebastian drawled. “Want some cream to go with that vanilla?”

“I don’t want your cream,” Puck said, repulsed. “It’s probably some sour ass shit.”

Sebastian opened his mouth, then decided against it. “Before this slides into an inevitable desire to experiment, please leave me alone.”

“What!” Puck shook his head, clearly offended. “Don’t say that like you don’t want to do me. If life’s a dinner, Puckzilla is the main course.”

“Well, my appetite was just ruined.” Sebastian finished the last bottle, screwing the lid on. Puck looked put off, and Sebastian reluctantly decided to be nice in case his bad boy nature caught yet another one. “Don’t get me wrong, there’s normally time for a musclehead idiot, but you’re just not what I’m into right now.”

“Oh, cool.” Puck nodded. “The Blaine thing, right?”

“What Blaine thing?”

Puck smirked. “Good luck. That dude’s a professional cocktease. I’ve never seen a guy get lucky with him.”

“There is no way he’s a virgin,” Sebastian retorted. “He may do the bashful thing and he may be the most damned confusing guy I’ve ever met, but I’m never wrong about these things.”

He never was. If Puck had seen Blaine eat a banana, he’d understand.

“Okay, man.” Puck patted him on the shoulder. “Seriously. Just … good luck.”

Puck departed. Sebastian, not enjoying being the one everyone left, decided to walk off himself to put the ketchup bottles back. Good luck. If Blaine was going to try to seduce Sebastian back while Sebastian absolutely could not give in in danger of worsening his condition -- well, let it be said he would need all the luck he could get.

Time to check the going rate for rabbit’s feet on eBay, and while he was at it, double-check that he was still top bidder on that bowtie sale.

(Which were totally for him, to clarify, and not a spur of the moment two-week bidding war because Blaine would love that one with a toy bear pattern or the one with the sailboats. Sebastian was just keeping up with the fashion times in support of the gay agenda, was all)

\--

Of course, Blaine was worryingly persistent. A few days of dodging his flirting later, and:

“Sebastian --”

Sebastian breezed past Suzy, who uttered his name with pure longing. It was how everyone said his name. _Sebastian_. The man, the myth, the legend.

“Sebastian --”

That was Blaine. Sebastian hesitated, and hesitating while breezing led to stumbling, and that was how Sebastian found himself crashing into a table. Recovering quickly, as was his wont, he spun and ended on his back, making sure to land on his elbows as his long (normally graceful) legs stretched out in front of him. “Hey,” Sebastian said, smoothly.

“Uh.” Blaine stepped forward, standing between Sebastian’s feet. Now this was headed somewhere good -- no, Sebastian had made a promise to himself, he would not give in to Blaine’s magnetic pull. “I was just wondering …” Blaine took a deep breath, then plowed on. (Heh. Plowed.) “My friend, Rachel, is putting on his one-woman show this weekend. It’s two nights only, and the attendance promises to be great, but I managed to get two tickets. Would you like to come with me?”

“A one woman show? The ‘my iPod medley’ variety or ‘emerging from the womb’ variety?”

“The posters advertise ‘An intimate two hours with her voice.’ She's incredibly talented.”

“Okay, the well-tuned iPod show. Thanks. I’ll pass.” Sebastian sat up more, pulling his legs in. Blaine looked crushed. Dammit. “Why don’t you take Sam.”

“Sam got a separate invite. So did Tina. And Puck. And Santana. Basically everyone Rachel knows, really. You’re one of my few friends who’s not part of our group.” Blaine smiled hopefully. “You could meet them.”

“Let’s see. Tina: watches you sleep at night. Sam: likes Justin Bieber unironically. Puck: fifty year old frat boy heterosexual. Santana: makes me wish Sappho got pushed off a cliff on the Isles of Lesbos.” Sebastian ticked them off on his fingers. “With that track record, your other friends don’t seem meetable.”

Blaine seemed ready to argue that. “Well--”

“And for that matter, what makes you think we’re friends?”

“You don’t think we’re friends?” Blaine’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh, come on. Do you even know my middle name? My favourite pretentious indie novel? How I like my coffee? Which high schools I got kicked out of?” Sebastian raised a challenging brow. “Go ahead, name one fact about me not to do with my resume or raw animal magnetism.”

Blaine’s mouth dropped open (lord above) then snapped shut ( _lord above_.)

“Fine. Your middle name is _Ancelin_. You cried while reading _Veronika Decides to Die_. You get it with cognac. And --” Blaine paused. “Honestly, I only know of Brenton Academy for Boys, but I’m sure there are more. It had something to do with a piñata and Audrey Hepburn?”

Sebastian was speechless. Not something that happened often. Ever. _At no other point in his life_.

“You know, you talk about yourself a lot,” Blaine continued, pointing to Sebastian. “You talk about yourself a lot to me, and others, and to others about me -- I’d say we’re friends. Maybe not best friends, but --.”

“But nothing,” Sebastian interrupted, shifting to draw himself up even further so he was standing, just leaning against the table casually and pretending he wasn’t _thrumming_ with the need to kiss the hell out of Blaine. “You keep jerking me around, and guess what, I don’t want any jerking from you.”

“Really?” Blaine gave him a heated look. “None?”

“Really.” Sebastian crossed his arms, as Blaine stepped a bit closer, crowding him. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have to go. I have very important things to do.”

“More important things?” Blaine frowned slowly. “Or people?”

“As they say in France: _T’Ocuppe!_ ” Sebastian left then, before Blaine could bother him anymore with his general bother-iness. And crap, there he went, speaking like a quirky character from a Joss Whedon show. God, nobody had it harder than him.

\--

Sebastian came into work the next day to find a bouquet of roses in the cubby for his things. They were fresh and obviously carefully picked. Sebastian would know, because he found that so many guys fell all over themselves at something which hardly put a dent in his cushy wallet. Once, he bought an entire three-foot wreath for a guy who wore these tiny booty shorts while washing windows, and those shorts were on the floor of his bedroom before the day was out.

He had no idea who put these here. Well, maybe a tiny idea. Just a bit of one. Hint: it was somebody else he’d like to see in booty shorts.

“Dude.” Puck stood there, holding a milk crate filled with wine glasses. “Don’t let Blaine see those.”

“Blaine might already have seen them.”

“No go bro,” Puck made a slashing motion with his free hand. “Roses make him think of his ex. He sees those, he’s never touching you.”

Well. There went that. Typical of Sebastian to have so many admirers he confused them, though. Pretending he wasn’t both wildly disappointed and wildly disappointed that he was wildly disappointed, Sebastian grabbed the flowers and tossed them into the trash. He then went to help Puck with the dishes he was carting around. They were hosting some sort of private event tonight on the top floor, a book reading or something. Sebastian didn’t know; he had spent most of Blaine’s explanation dreaming of giving Blaine the best blowjob of his life. A blowjob so good he’d give meetings about it. Whole presentations, conferences. Become a motivational speaker who only talked about how good Sebastian made him feel. All these cute boys would come running after him, of course, but Sebastian would be too busy doing it with Blaine again and again and again and --

No! Stupid crush! No thoughts of permanence! Sebastian shook his head, ignoring Puck’s look -- like he cared about discount bin Han Solo’s opinion -- and got to putting the glasses out on the tables. Blaine hovered in the background, managing and directing and improving the general attractiveness of the room by one hundred percent.

“Santana and I got this bet going,” Puck muttered, _sotto voce_. “Where you can’t go more than five seconds without looking at him.”

“That’s not a bet. That’s an observation.” Sebastian’s eyes flicked to Blaine once again.

“No, she says you can’t go more than two seconds.” Puck shrugged. “Guess I just lost twenty bucks.”

“Boy, that must be a lot of money for you. If you get kicked out of whatever hovel you call home, you’re _not_ allowed to crash with me.”

“I’d rather live with John Wayne Gacy. At least I’d get a balloon animal out of it.”

“Well, he was as big a clown as you are.”

Puck continued to look smug. “Hey, don’t get angry at me, bro. If it helps, I won the bet that he can’t go more than three seconds without looking at you.”

Sebastian looked again, and Blaine was watching him, gaze not quite hungry, but something similar that he couldn’t place and made his skin prickle. And his face warm. Really warm. What the hell was --

“You’re fucking blushing,” Puck hissed, grinning as Sebastian ducked his head so Blaine couldn’t see him anymore.

“Shut the fuck up,” Sebastian hissed back, mortified. These things did not happen to Sebastian Smythe. He could do one-handed cartwheels blindfolded. Not even his capillaries should dare challenge the mastery he had over his body.

“You are! I _gotta_ Snapchat this.” Puck scrambled for his phone.

“Stop looking like Jewish Christmas came early and give me that fucking phone,” Sebastian reached for it, Puck blocked him, and a quick scuffle followed where elbows landed in numerous soft spots. Finally, triumph written over his face, Puck held Sebastian in an elbow grip and took a quick shot with his phone.

“Guys?” Blaine was suddenly there. Great. The only way this could get worse was if Sebastian opened his mouth and nothing but _You Belong With Me_ came out. “Did you get into another argument about lacrosse versus football?”

“Nah.” Puck released Sebastian. “But so everyone knows: football’s way better.”

“For those of us who lack hand-eye coordination thanks to all the hits to the head we’ve taken, maybe.”

“Hey!” Puck turned on him, but Blaine pushed himself between them, comically and deliciously undersized. Sebastian sent Puck a final glare over Blaine’s head.

“Fellows! A little maturity, please.” Blaine nudged them further apart, then sent Puck to go work on the other side of the room. (Puck waving his phone teasingly at Sebastian as he left.) That left the two of them. Alone. “Maybe you should stop picking fights you can’t win, Sebastian. I mean, the Santana thing was bad enough --”

“That was one arm wrestling contest!” Sebastian crossed his arms. “And I only lost because she drew blood with those daggers she calls nails. I feel sorry for whoever’s her girlfriend.”

Suddenly Blaine was grabbing at Sebastian’s hand, tugging, untangling his arms so he could run careful fingers over the skin of Sebastian’s palm. “It didn’t scar, did it?” Dammit. Sebastian was having yet another blood flow problem, and this time, it wasn’t to his face.

“No,” Sebastian said roughly, and slid his hand free. “If it did, I would have sued.”

“That’s not very nice,” Blaine said, smiling a little, glancing at him from under his eyelashes. It was so teasing. Sebastian regretted ever heading down this road. He should have seen Blaine Anderson that first day and known he was trouble and quit right on the spot.

Quitting. Now there was an idea.

“I’m not very nice.”

“Hmm.” Blaine leaned forward. “How about I bring the sugar, you bring the spice, and together we make everything nice?” 

Then he, honest to god, winked at Sebastian.

“Did you--” Sebastian stared. “Did  you seriously just use a children’s rhyme to try and pick me up?” Did Sebastian seriously just get flattered by somebody using a children’s rhyme to pick him up? “You’re amazing.”

“Thanks.” Blaine beamed at him. “So -- supply closet?”

Sebastian nearly said yes. He very nearly did. But he had just been made gooey by words like _sugar_ and _spice_ and even one hasty grope in a room that smelled like stagnant cleaning supplies would be too much for his current fragile constitution.

“Blaine.” Sebastian shook his head. “We can’t.”

Blaine huffed. “You’re impossible.”

“No, you’re impossible.” Sebastian glowered. “You keep trying to start something here when I -- well, I want to, but I don’t want-want to. And that’s really rude and …” he trailed off, realization hitting him like a slap to the face delivered by a trashy reality TV star aiming for ratings.

“Hm?” Blaine quirked an eyebrow. “What was that? Eager pursuit is a turn off for you?”

“No, it’s --” Sebastian realized there were no ways to salvage this, so he just gave in. “Alright. I’m sorry. If you’ve just been trying to prove a point about my flirtatious ways, then I’m sorry. I can get a little ahead of myself -- but that doesn’t mean I wanted to piss you off. Not because of feelings I might have, of course, in a hypothetical sense. But because of yours. I don’t want to--” Sebastian cut himself off, groaning. “Nevermind. This is a mess. I’ve never apologized before.”

“Sebastian …”

“No. Just give me some space, okay?” Sebastian stalked off then, to the door which led to the stairs, taking them two at a time. He couldn’t believe this. The past fifteen minutes had just taken every single inch of Sebastian’s sense of self and run it through a blender. Hell, the past two months had been chopping at him to get him ready for that blender. He was a mess. Not in the hot mess way, where he could roll into a party three hours late and smelling like the inside of a bathhouse and high as a kite and still have everyone want to be him. No, it was in the way that he was turning into a hit pop song’s interpretation of young adulthood. All stupid crushes and hearts beating fast and realizing he was wrong.

Jesus. What had become of him? Sebastian Smythe. The man, the myth, the legend. His statuesque importance torn down by a hot piece of ass who had the personality, the talent, and the skills to match. He was lost. He was doomed. He was outside, wishing he had a cigarette, and wishing Blaine saw him as more than a tall drink of water. But he never would. Especially not after that display upstairs.

This shift could not end quickly enough. Because after it, Sebastian was done. His parents could scold him all they wanted -- he couldn’t spend another minute at this job, with this boss. Losing all the things that made him cool, and not really minding when Blaine smiled at him a certain way.

Terrible. This was absolutely terrible.

_tbc_


	4. This Place About To Blow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Someone handcuffed without their consent (non-sexual.) 
> 
> Anyways this is finally done. OTL Thank you for everyone who has stuck with me! [TUMBLR LINK](http://boldmistakes.tumblr.com/post/85872154191/with-the-jack-and-the-jukebox-seblaine-4-4)

“And that’s why I always tell people: use your words like you would use a salt shaker. Some dishes need it more than others, but a dish without is inedible. Simply inedible.”

Applause.

“And some dishes … some dishes don’t use salt but pepper. Not sure what the pepper is yet, but it’s in there, we’ll figure it out together!”

Laughter.

“And when we figure it out, well, then that meal will be complete. I mean, it could probably use some ketchup too … or things to put the salt and pepper on … and can’t forget paprika … um give me a second ...” The author shuffled his notes while his adoring crowd looked on.

“I’m going to throw myself out the window,” Sebastian groaned into Santana’s ear. She smirked, pouring another glass of wine for herself.

“You think this is bad, wait until we get businessmen parties.” Santana adopted a smooth, low voice. “Little missy, I like my drinks to go down and my stocks to go up! Ho ho ho!”

“I bet drinks aren’t the only thing they like going down.”

“That’s exactly what they say next. I forgot they were your people.” Santana shuddered. “How’s your 401K treating you?”

“Just fine.” Sebastian nodded. How could he have ever not liked Santana in any way? She might be his new best friend. “If you’re asking for money, I’ll pay you a thousand dollars to flash the bar.”

“Okay.” Santana reached for her shirt’s hem, but then Blaine sailed by and shot her a warning look. Surprisingly, Santana backed down. Sebastian couldn’t help but look to Blaine so they could share in amusement over this, but Blaine only met his gaze for a moment before taking off again to do another circuit of the room. It wasn’t the first time this awkward eyeball dance had happened in the past few hours, but Sebastian couldn’t stop looking. It didn’t help that Blaine was wearing a plum coloured suit and looked like a sexy Willy Wonka. Sebastian struggled to remember for a second _why_ he would be quitting at the end of the night.

“What is that face? He looks like Willy Wonka.”

Seriously. Best friend.

“ _Sexy_ Willy Wonka.” Sebastian shot her a look. “Don’t make a chocolate factory joke.”

“Damn.” Santana took a sip of wine. “Ruining my vibe.”

“Vibe? Things not going great with your girlfriend?”

“I’d say _your_ sex life must not be hot if that’s what your mind immediately went to, but,” Santana shrugged. “Knew that already. Tell me, did you shoot off early on Blaine or something? You’ve been avoiding each other and it’s weird.”

“No.” Sebastian rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about Blaine.”

“There’s a first.”

“Can you two be quiet?” Blaine hissed as he made another circuit. “You’re distracting the guests.” Sebastian snorted. They deserved a reward then, honestly.

“No,” Santana said. Blaine’s eyes narrowed. Sebastian readied himself for the titillating sight of Blaine snarling at someone, but then Blaine simply grinned at her, all teeth.

“I love you, Santana.”

Then he took off again. Sebastian blinked. Huh?

“That bastard,” Santana breathed in obvious respect. Again: Huh? Santana caught Sebastian’s sexily puzzled expression. “I’ve known Blaine Anderson a long time, and one day when you do too, you’ll get it.”

“It’ll be hard to get to know him after I quit tonight.”

“Quit?” Santana frowned. Ah shit. “Smoking? You smoke? Shouldn’t you sound butcher?”

What? Sebastian was plenty butch. His voice just had the practised _je-ne-sais-quoi_ of the very rich.

“Quit this job,” Sebastian said. Though she was probably misinterpreting him on purpose. It was something Sebastian would do. “I don’t need the money. I’ve had the job experience. And I want to go to Paris for the summer.”

Not that his parents would let him go alone. His mother, a Frenchwoman, tended to get a dangerous look in her eyes and say, “The city will awaken your passionate blood! I must keep an eye on you.” After a trip there and a house fire, public indecency scandal, and kidnapped duck later, he had to admit she might have been right.

(Oh, what a precocious sixteen he had been.)

“You are so full of shit,” Santana told him. “You’re just scared. Poor Sebby, want me to buy you a nightlight and check under your bed for Blaine?”

“Sooner check under it for my secret stalker,” Sebastian grumbled. The flowers had somehow escaped the trash and been placed back in his cubby. So it was definitely not Blaine; the man gave off the air of someone who licked hand sanitizer as a child. Sebastian gave up on going all Hardy Boys on that mystery though, and threw the flowers into the deep fryer in the kitchen, figuring that if he was quitting anyways he should just say to hell with it.

“You mean Suzy?” Santana laughed. “You know, I never look her in the eye?”

“That’s it.” Sebastian dug into his pocket and gave her his phone. “You have to put your number in there. We’re officially outside-of-work friends.”

“And _that’s_ officially the gayest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Santana accepted his phone though, and Sebastian kept an eagle eye on her as she added her name. “Oh, look, Blaine is bending over.”

Sebastian looked up. He couldn’t help it. Some things were Pavlovian. But Blaine was just refilling a water glass with expert ease while Sam watched the author speak with rapt attention and Puck made aggressive eyes at a MILF. Just your average night at the bar, and no shangri-la in sight. At least Blaine made the water pouring hot, as if he were some sexy butler on _Downton Abbey_ , and _oh_ there was an idea for a little roleplay session … wait. Santana still had his phone.

“You --” Sebastian’s head whipped around, and Santana handed his phone back with a bright, sharp smile. “I’m going to make you pay for that.”

“For what? False hope?”

“No, for --” Sebastian checked his outgoing texts, and sure enough, there was one sent to Blaine Anderson: ‘hey dtf 2nite? check out the merch ;)’ with an attached -- yep, that was a dick pic. An amazing subject matter and photographic attempt, in his not-so-humble opinion. Still. “I’m subtler than this.”

Santana laughed loudly, and the crowd of old people before them glanced at her. The author went firetruck red. It was not nearly as attractive as when Blaine did it. Speaking of -- Blaine began to march over with a determined expression. Uh-oh. Daddy was mad.

“Sebastian,” Blaine hissed when he arrived. “You are going to go downstairs and get the after dinner mints. We forget them.”

“Why me?” Sebastian whispered back. He had barely a reputation to fight for, dammit. “She-devil is the one who disturbed the peace.”

“This is not a democracy,” Blaine said firmly. “And I need her to serve drinks. It’s last call.”

Oh thank god. That meant he was that much closer to freedom.

“Fine.” Sebastian left, ignoring Santana smothering a laugh in her fist. He’d get his revenge. Soon. Maybe he should find out where Santana lived and take out a library card in her name and not pay a single fine for all the overdue books he’d throw into the river. And it would be all seven of Harry Potter, original covers in hardcover, just to make sure people were more horrified by her. Sebastian cackled quietly as he imagined that fallout, and it took him a second to register that the further down the steps he went the more things resembled the pointed motif of _Heart of Darkness._  As in, it was well, dark. Too dark. They had closed off the bottom floor early tonight, but the lights should have still been on for the guests upstairs. Maybe they were hoping the author would take a deathly fall and spare the world anymore of his drivel. 

Still. Weird.

Sebastian was, of course, able to easily navigate the floor even in the darkness. He had great night vision from eating carrots and figuring out other people's zippers in dank club bathrooms. So he sailed along, until his foot hit something unexpected and he went sprawling, flopping to the ground with all the grace of an overambitious figure skater taking a fall.

"Fuck!"

Twice in one week. Speaking of clubs -- tomorrow night he'd have to hit one up and dance until he couldn’t taste anything but sweat and admiration, to remind the world that he was someone. Someone _cool_. Sebastian thought longingly of this as he picked himself up on all fours, rubbing his chin where it had hit the ground. Was he going to bruise? People would mistake it for a soul patch, and that would be way too embarrassing to contemplate.

“What the fuck was that?” Sebastian muttered, squinting behind him. Was that a leg? The kitchen light didn’t exactly make it this far, but the red glow of the Exit sign caught the figure’s ginger hair. Sebastian sighed. “What are you doing down there?”

“Did you get my roses, Sebastian?”

Well, that was one mystery solved. Next time: who kept  anonymously submitting “Sebastian’s backsprings scare the line cooks” into Blaine’s plaid-patterned Anonymous Contribution Box.

"Unfortunately, I did. What do you want now?

"I just want to talk, okay?" Suzy said, and then there was a rustling swiftness before Sebastian found himself with a cloth bag dropped over his face. Sebastian tried to pull it off, ready to curse her out, but she grabbed his wrist, and a handcuff snapped into place around it. (A feeling Sebastian was plenty familiar with.)

“Let me go, you crazy --”

“No,” Suzy moaned, grabbing for his other arm, but he moved it away, lightly slapping at her hand. It wasn’t that Sebastian would never hit a girl, so much as, he wanted to make sure when he did he committed maximum damage. It was how he played sports, video games, and particularly rough games of Scrabble. “I saw this in an anime, Sebastian. If we're forced together, you'll _have_ to see my true spirit, how our love will work. I'll let you go in a few minutes.”

Great. A weeaboo. The absolute last kind of person he needed to have a conversation with, and the last thing his day needed. And did the bag smell faintly like anchovies? Gross.

"What's with the bag?"

"You never look at me," Suzy explained breathlessly. "I think it's because you find me too attractive. So I'm trying to help."

A noble goal, but really, the bag should be over  _her_ head.

“I’m warning you,” Sebastian said, trying to stand up only to have her sit on his legs behind him, forcing his knees to grind into the ground. Also a feeling Sebastian was familiar with, but not for the sake of fabric in his mouth. He spat it out, continuing. “My dad’s a state attorney --”

“Then he can officiate us!”

What? Jesus. Sebastian wasn’t ever going to get married, but especially not to a woman. That would be a half-gay wedding. A bisexual wedding. Or what several closeted congressman called their wedded bliss.

“Do you even know what attorneys do? Let me go,” Sebastian sighed, wincing as the bag was tightened. It wasn't that he cared about his hair, exactly, but his hair was _totally_ going to look stupid after this. “Before I hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” Suzy whispered. “Look into your heart, you feel me there, you know we -- oww!” Sebastian had rocked himself back, throwing Suzy back onto the ground. His arm yanked back too, where she had cuffed herself to him, but Sebastian ignored it so he could spin around and face what was assumedly her direction. He rattled their connecting chain.

“Please. I’m going to go Hannibal on your ass. Only way I’d ever eat you.”

“Sebastian --”

“Sebastian?” That was Blaine’s voice, from somewhere over to the right. “Why is it so dark down here? Bar rules, all lights on until after closing, as decided by the manager …” Blaine voice got clearer as he moved closer, and Suzy tried to shush Sebastian, who rolled his eyes beneath his hood.

“I’m over here, Blaine,” he drawled. “Suzy Pepper is trying to elope with me.”

“No!” Suzy squealed. “We're  _talking_."

Well. True.

“What?” There were footsteps, and the room flooded with light, Sebastian able to see the textured weave and the logo of the bag now. Good to know Suzy used reusable bags for her groceries. At least a landfill was going to be added to for the sake of Suzy's none-too-impressive attempted catch and release. “Oh. I see. Suzy, please let him go.”

Blaine was getting closer; Sebastian imagined he couldn’t be more than a few feet away. He bet he looked ridiculous right now; just how he didn’t want Blaine to see him.

“No,” Suzy sobbed. “You just want him for yourself! I’ve seen you, throwing yourself at him! He’s too good for you though, you’ll never get him.”

“But I’ve already had him,” Blaine said cockily. Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “All over the bar. His apartment. His house. It was amazing, we broke this little drink cart with filigree gold on the edges and the health inspectors can’t know what happened with the ice cube trays.”

Wow. Sebastian wished he had been there for this supposed tryst of his and Blaine’s.

“You -- you’re lying!” Suzy hissed. “Tell him, Sebastian. Tell him he’s delusional!”

“He’s not,” Sebastian said. “You are though. All I’ve ever wanted is Blaine.” Shit. “And a boat full of European models oiling each other down.” That was better.

“Mixed gender models?”

“ _Male_ models.”

“No …” Suzy made a pathetic keening noise, then turned to Blaine. “You don’t understand him like I do though … you can’t appreciate him -- can’t appreciate it …”

“But I do appreciate it.” Blaine came closer, and there was a rustling sound, and Suzy was pulling away and taking Sebastian’s arm with her. “And it’s worth it. But you’re never going to get it.”

“Is the ‘it’ here my dick, because--” Sebastian tried, and Suzy tutted.

“Of course we aren’t talking about you-know-what,” Suzy muttered, then slyly added, towards Blaine, “Is -- um -- is it nice though --?”

“Like this.” Blaine didn’t say anything more, but Suzy gasped. Had he pulled his phone out? Then Santana had just gotten him out of a jam. She liked to brag that her sexts had almost supernatural power, and apparently she wasn't wrong. Hopefully her voodoo doll skills weren't equally effective, or Sebastian had something to worry about.

“Gosh, that would have been nice.” Suzy sniffed wetly. “Do you really love Blaine, Sebastian?”

Oh, come on. Did Sebastian commit mass slaughter or record an obnoxious flash in the pan hit which was played non stop on the radio in a former life? Who’s luck was this bad? Reluctantly, Sebastian nodded his head.

“I love him, tons. So much romance there. We’ve been on a ferris wheel together and everything. He’s the man of my dreams.” Sebastian groaned, and tried to play it off as a loving sigh. It was disturbingly easy if he pictured the stupid look Blaine probably had on his face right now. “Going to get his name tattooed on my arm.”

“That’s true love,” Suzy said, and then broke into loud, hiccuping sobs. Blaine made a reassuring sound, and then there was this sound as if he were rubbing her arm. “I -- I can’t -- I can’t date someone who’s disloyal. I’m -- I’m worth more than that.”

“Yes! You go girl!” Blaine said perkily. “Sorry for stealing him. But could you uncuff him? I want to smooch him.”

Smooch him? Sebastian was going to leave the country. He couldn’t handle this.

“Fine.” There was activity around his wrist, and then the handcuff fell off. Sebastian waited, and then somebody -- the cologne smelled like Blaine -- undid where Suzy had tied the bag straps together. Then Sebastian was blinking into the light and briefly seeing Suzy’s tear-streaked face (ew) before he refocused on Blaine, who gave him a worried smile.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Sebastian’s eyes widened when Blaine leaned in, pressing two quick kisses to his cheek, one landing temptingly near to the corner of his mouth. “Thanks,” he breathed. Blaine glanced up as he pulled away, their gazes meeting, but the moment was ruined by Suzy wailing loudly.

“I want to go home,” she sobbed. “My therapist is going to be so mad with me.”

“Oh, good, you’re seeing someone already.” Blaine got up, and offered Suzy a hand, helping her up. “Just be honest with them, okay? I know it sucks. But they’re here to help, and I want you to get better.”

“You do?” Weak and maybe a bit too hopeful. Blaine better be careful.

“I want everyone to be healthy and happy,” Blaine reassured her, eyes warm. “But -- for the record. You’re fired. You’ll get your last paycheck and a recommendation though, don’t worry. But maybe it's time you took some time to work with yourself.”

“Okay.” Sullen. Much better. "I'm -- I'm sorry."

Sebastian nodded, attention still straying to the firm but gentle way Blaine was handling Suzy. So  _hot_ _._

“Sebastian’s going to call you a cab. I’ll help you clean out your cubby.” Blaine looked to Sebastian. “You don’t want to call the -- well, you know, right?” Blaine widened his eyes.

In fact, Sebastian did. Once you'd been in trouble with the police, you could always tell when the secret code was activated. “Nope. No cops.”

There weren't many things Sebastian stood by, but forgiveness where forgiveness was allowable was important, especially for someone who was obviously unbalanced and regretting it. So hey. He was  _totally_  a nice guy.

Suzy sniffed. “Thank you ... I'm really sorry, Sebastian."

"It's cool."

After that, within ten minutes Suzy was out of their hair, hopefully forever. Sebastian could finally feel free to look down at any and all times to see Blaine without fear of Suzy blocking his view. Well, except for the fact that he wouldn't have many more chances to see Blaine after tonight. Sebastian frowned as he watched Suzy's cab drive off, rubbing his wrist, and Blaine sighed. Sebastian glanced sidelong at him, and Blaine looked over, bumping their elbows together.

“So that was fun.” Blaine looked down to Sebastian’s wrist. “Seriously, are you okay? That had to be scary.”

“Not really. It was kind of funny, really, in a stupid way.” Sebastian shrugged. “Don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but my dad is very important and my mom has serious money."

"Oh, sure, that's  _never_ come up." _  
_

"Haha, very funny.  _Anyways_ , after the Russian mob's tried to kidnap you, Suzy Pepper trying  _really hard_ to have a conversation doesn't even rate."

“That’s cool. And sad.” Blaine made a pensive face, and Sebastian rolled his eyes, jerking his head to the bar entrance.

“Don’t cry for me and all that. I’m going to go clean out my stuff now.”

“What?” Blaine stared at him. “What?”

“I’m quitting,” Sebastian said.

“I thought you weren’t shaken up by all this, and I promise you, if she comes back on premises again I will call the cops …”

“No, it’s not that.” Honestly, Sebastian had already forgotten about that little episode. Blaine was far too sensitive, and Sebastian needed to get away from that. He moved to go inside, but Blaine stopped him with a hand to his arm. Sebastian looked down at the contact, and shook his head. “Don’t.”

“This isn’t about us. You can’t just leave -- wait, is it about us?” Blaine tugged at Sebastian’s shirtsleeve. “Have I made you uncomfortable? I didn’t want to cross a line …”

“You didn’t. I did.” Sebastian shook Blaine off, running a hand through his hair, some of it having fallen into his face thanks to Suzy’s bagging. “I came in here and started something I wasn’t ready to finish.”

“But why aren’t you finishing it? You changed after the coffee shop, and I don’t get why.” Blaine stared up at him, eyes the most hazel Sebastian had ever seen in the glow of the streetlamps. It was hard to look away, even as Sebastian snorted in disbelief.

“Are you kidding me? You told me, to my face, that me having feelings for you was a bad idea.” Sebastian laughed, surprisingly bitter. This was not his usual carefree, charming, irresistible self. He definitely had been put through the Blaine Blender. “How stupid is that? I’m normally the one telling people that isn’t my scene -- and you beat me to it.”

Blaine opened his mouth to retort, but Sebastian steamrolled on, heat gathering in a tight knot under his breastbone.

“And look at you, you’re the kind of guy who says _smooch_. You love _The Notebook_ and the obviously less superior _The Vow_. You probably watch public proposal videos on Youtube while you plan on how to audition for a gay _Bachelor_ , which you think would be unscripted.” Sebastian waved his hands to emphasize this point, aware that he probably looked a bit unhinged, but he couldn’t stop. “I bet you love the idea of fresh baby smell and a white picket fence and matching rings. You’ll remember every anniversary, and do stupid little things that say ‘I’m thinking of you’, and roses make you think of your ex so I bet long walks on the beach and heart-shaped chocolates make you think of him too. You’re a big, gay, romantic cliché!”

“Says the twinky club rat gay cliché.” That wasn’t Blaine. Sebastian looked over from Blaine’s stunned face, to see Santana standing in the doorway. She smiled brightly. “You never brought the mints. People are leaving.”

“We -- we had a problem,” Blaine said slowly. “Suzy handcuffed Sebastian. I had to fire her.”

“Aww.” Santana looked at Sebastian, and gave him a quick once-over. "You okay?"

"I'm good."

"Good." Santana's look turned wicked. "Overpowered by a girl, huh? That arm wrestling contest was a sign.”

Santana just  _knew_ what he needed.

“It was your damn nails!” Sebastian threw his arms up, and then quieted when he saw a little old lady peering over Santana’s shoulder. Best not to scare the old bird with their brand of attitude. “I’m going in through the back.” It was really a sign of his Blaine-induced melancholia that he couldn't even muster a smirk at that possible double entendre.

He took off, ignoring Blaine calling his name, and tried to calm down as he circled the building through the alleyway on the side. This night was officially miserable. He was totally losing his cool in front of Blaine, and he couldn’t stop thinking about the feel of Blaine’s soft lips pressing against his cheek, and Blaine had looked unbearably handsome in that suit he was wearing, and god Sebastian wanted to strip his bowtie off with his teeth, and Blaine had handled the Suzy thing so well -- and, oh yeah, the bag-and-cuffing he had just went through, but more importantly Blaine had looked so upset by the idea of Sebastian quitting. What the hell was going on here?

Sebastian waited a few minutes outside, breathing in the warm summer air, before he let himself in through the kitchen door. Then he headed straight for the employee area, taking a seat on a bench. There he let his head hang between his knees, rubbing at his temples. That headache was coming back.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, but then there was the click of heels and a soft hand on the back of his neck. Sebastian looked up to find Santana there, smirking down at him. “Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Santana ruffled his hair, and then headed over to her cubby. Carelessly, she stripped off her black polo and then shimmied into a tight red tanktop, giving her breasts an extra wiggle for maximum _oomph_. “Everyone else has already taken off. Just you and Blaine left. So if you want to give a point to your little rant, now’s the time.”

“I don’t want to.” Sebastian straightened, giving her a dirty look. “I don’t care about him anymore.”

“Uh-huh.” Santana flipped her compact open, rolled out her lipstick and applied a fresh coat, popped her lips, then closed it with a snap and a smile. “Lie to yourself all you want. It’s just your sex life on the line.”

“I can have sex with whoever I want.”

“Including Blaine.” Santana tucked away her compact and lipstick into her purse, slinging it over her shoulder, then came over to him. With a severe look, she grabbed his face, squishing it and giving him a little shake. “Look. I don’t play fairy’s godmother. But unasked for advice is my speciality, and so are hard truths, so listen up: Blaine wants you. In every way. And not just the every way you’re thinking, so stop giving me those eyebrows.”

“I don’t --”

“Nope. You know I’m right.” Santana leaned forward, and pressed a kiss to his forehead, pulling back with a grin. “There. Maybe the sight of that will fire him up into a possessive, jealous rage.”

“Go piss on an electric fence,” Sebastian told her, not unkindly.

“Go man up and get what you want, Sebby,” she cooed. Sebastian pushed her away, and she lightly slapped him upside the head, before leaving with a cackle. He flipped off her retreating back, and then ran his hands through his hair again. He needed to get home.

“Sebastian?” He looked up, and Blaine was in the doorway, staring at him. “Um. You got a little something … right here.” Blaine tapped his forehead.

“It’s a new look. Postmodern queer,” Sebastian replied, and pushed himself up, ambling over to the sink in the corner. Blaine was still watching him but Sebastian ignored it, splashing water liberally on his face before tearing off some paper towel to dry off his face. Another splash of water pushed his hair back, and then he looked over his shoulder to find Blaine had vanished. From the direction of the main room, music sounded, and what was unmistakably Blaine singing.

Having a boss who liked to perform sing-a-longs was one thing, but Blaine firing up the karaoke machine after everyone had left was definitely weird. Sebastian hesitated, then switched into the t-shirt he’d come to work in. He was just curious. He didn’t care, really. Not at all.

No, scratch that denial, he did. So like a goddamn pet that didn’t want to be alone, Sebastian headed for the main room. As he got closer he could more easily make out the words; Blaine was singing Keane. Totally typical, and Sebastian loved it.

“Oh why did we ever go so far from home,” Blaine had a way of holding a microphone, with his hand sliding down the edge of it, eyes shut and eyelashes fanned out, that could drive a man to sin. Sebastian headed to the booth which ran along the far wall, taking a seat. "Well, you got nothing to hide, you can't change who you really are." Blaine’s eyes opened, tracking Sebastian, and he finished the verse before trailing off. "You can get a big house and a faster car, you can run away, boy, but you won't go far ..."

Sebastian applauded. “Was that supposed to have meaning?”

Blaine bowed quickly. “Only if you want it to.” He put the mike away and turned off the karaoke machine, before coming over to join Sebastian.

“That’s not loaded at all.” Sebastian shifted as Blaine sat next to him, turning a little so they could face each other.

“Only as loaded as you want it to be.” Blaine smiled. “Like a gun.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Shush.” Blaine shook his head, still smiling. What had him so cheery? And why was his smile so damn cute?

“By the way,” Sebastian cleared his throat. “Santana sent that message. If it were me, I would have been much more suave about it.”

“I figured.” Blaine gave him a look. “But it was yours, right?”

“One hundred percent authentic and all natural.”

“Good. Uh. To know.” Blaine went pink, but kept his steady eye contact with Sebastian. “You know, I would like to sing with you, sometime. I find it’s a good bonding exercise.”

“So is surviving a natural disaster together.” Sebastian paused, then added, “But, that would be nice. Question is, are we bonding as coworkers, or friends, or -- something more personal?”

Whatever. Time to bite the bullet of that loaded gun. Sebastian wasn’t going to let Santana imply he was a coward anymore, and if there was the barest chance he and Blaine could make it work, he would burn the Earth to ashes before he let it go. Sebastian was dedicated like that.

And then Blaine took a deep breath before _obviously_ chickening out. “I’ll answer that, but you have to tell me, what did you mean back there?” Blaine grew intent. “About me being a romantic cliché? Do you … not like that?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” Sebastian said. Unfairly and impossibly, it just made Blaine hotter. “It takes all types. But if Mr Romantic Cliché is so put off by the idea of me getting a crush on him, then what does that say about me?”

“I wasn’t put off!” Blaine grabbed Sebastian’s hand, squeezing it. “I swear.”

“Of course you were,” Sebastian snorted. “Weren’t you there? You told me it was a bad idea to crush on my boss. And it is.” Sebastian took the final plunge. “And the ridiculous thing is, you’re not wrong.”

“You like me?” Blaine’s eyes went wide. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Blaine, I’m sure, I like, _like-like_ you."

“I thought you did, but you’ve been so cold to me!” Blaine protested. “Listen to me, Sebastian. I like-like you too.”

“Really?” Sebastian asked, tone dubious. “That’s a little hard for me to believe, since you don’t want me for anything but my impeccable body. Not forgetting the ‘don’t crush on me’ thing so soon, are we? Since I did literally just remind you of it.”

“You dummy. Listen to me!” Blaine was moving, throwing a leg over Sebastian’s hips so he was straddling him. That was an unexpected development, but Sebastian could hardly look a sexy gift horse in its strong thighs and plush mouth. Blaine grabbed Sebastian’s face, as evidently, he and Santana had known each other for _too_ long. “I was being an idiot!”

“Now that we’ve established this conversation will have no intellectual worth …” Sebastian’s hands naturally moved to Blaine’s ass; he was only so strong.

“Just, shut up for a minute, okay?” Blaine shook his head. “When I told you it was a bad idea to fall for me I was  -- phrasing it poorly.”

“So what did you mean? It was a _terrible_ idea to fall for you?”

“I was surprised to realize you had,” Blaine explained. “I kept telling myself, Don’t let Sebastian get to you. He’s just in it for a one night stand, and you know how you get about guys. Don’t let his stupid sexy pick-up lines that make no sense and his eye-fucking get to you. And don’t get too into his ridiculously attractive face.”

“Wow. I like this much better, you should have just said so.”

Blaine snorted. “Like I said, I was being dumb. Because when you came to me in that coffee shop I decided I was horny and you were willing and I needed to learn how to not get obsessed with guys the minute they give me the time of day.”

Not getting obsessed with guys? Oh, like that was a bad thing. Sebastian made it look good, at least -- and Blaine did too, apparently.

“You hid this emotional disturbance well.”

“I’ve found emotional breakdowns rarely get the guy.” Blaine sighed, perhaps caught up in memories of his not-so-rosy ex. He shook them off. “But then you liked me and you were having your own emotional breakdown and it was a mess. I wanted to make sure you knew what you were getting into. It _is_ a bad idea to fall for your boss, but if you still wanted me -- well -- that would mean a lot.”

Sebastian hummed, working to untuck Blaine’s shirt so he could trace the skin there while he continued to grope at Blaine’s ass. _At Last_ might have been playing in his head. Blaine exhaled, rocking back into the touch.

“You do still want me, right?” Blaine quirked an eyebrow. Apparently he liked discussions to be two-sided, who knew.

“No, I’m just getting really hands-on measurements for a new set of pants for you,” Sebastian replied, squeezing. Blaine rolled his eyes, even as his cheeks went pink. “Of course I do. I wasn’t kidding about being an idiot with a crush. You can shout it from the rooftops, write it on your Tumblr, whatever. I’m a doomed man.”

“We can be doomed together.” Blaine leaned in, arms sliding around Sebastian’s shoulders as he pulled him into a kiss. Sebastian groaned, pulling Blaine closer. Yep. _At Last_ was definitely playing.

“You know,” Sebastian murmured, breaking apart so he could kiss along that fantastic line of Blaine’s jaw. “Emotional breakdowns clearly do get the guy.”

“So maybe this stupid, idiotic, terrible idea of a relationship was meant to be?” Blaine asked, teasing, as he gave a slow roll of his hips. Sebastian’s hands tensed as he chuckled, nipping at Blaine’s pulse point. Blaine moaned, head tilting, gripping at Sebastian’s hair.

“Yeah,” Sebastian agreed, kissing down Blaine’s neck. “I’m your Magneto--” kiss “--and I took over--” kiss “--the X-Mansion for you.” Kiss. “Meant to be.”

He was knocked back by the force of Blaine jerking at his hair so he could kiss Sebastian on the mouth, deep and dirty. Sebastian was dazed, and nobody ever took him off guard at anything sexual. He was a born connoisseur.

“That was so hot,” Blaine gasped against Sebastian’s open mouth. Well. Thank you, Sam Evans. “Oh my god. Let’s go back to my place.”

“Why not mine?”

“Mine’s closer,” Blaine said. When Sebastian raised an eyebrow, he flushed red and added, “I’ve maybe … walked past your apartment, once or twice.”

Jesus Christ and a baby lamb. They really were meant to be.

“Mmm. _That_ is so hot,” Sebastian repeated, kissing him back. Slowly, with a final suck to Blaine’s lower lip, Sebastian pulled back. Blaine’s hips kept moving, and they needed to get out of here before one of them came in their underwear. At this rate: probably Sebastian. “Most guys are turned on by French, not geek speak,” he observed.

“Well …” Blaine darted a kiss to the corner of Sebastian’s mouth, and Sebastian turned into it, feeling the tug of Blaine’s hands in his hair down his spine. “I’m not most guys.”

Sebastian had to smile at that, genuine and wide. “No, you definitely are not.”

“But -- I wouldn’t be opposed to some French dirty talk either …”

“Oui, mon chérie.”

Then, stumbling and kissing, they left The Black Rook to fall into Sebastian’s car, heading straight for Blaine’s house. Blaine didn’t ask how Sebastian knew where he lived, and Sebastian was a gentleman about waiting until the apartment door closed before he backed Blaine up against the wall and gave him what was assuredly the best blowjob of Blaine’s life.

After all, how could it not be? Sebastian Smythe wasn’t most guys either. It’s what would make them work.

\--

It was a breezy early June day at the Smythe summer home in the Hamptons, and Sebastian Smythe had been been called to a family meeting. He took Blaine with him, because their debate on the relative sexiness of the word ‘dribble’ wasn’t finished, not because he had any real desire to introduce Blaine to his parents. They might do something so tragic as tell him _I told you so_ because being responsible had gotten him something great.

“Babies dribble. Basketballs dribble. Nothing else needs to dribble.”

“Well it doesn’t spurt out like a fountain either, does it?” Blaine reproduced this with a wide fling of his hand, and Sebastian ducked as he pushed open the family room door.

“That doesn’t mean you need to say it _dribbles_.”

“Ah, Sebastian,” his mother said. “Did you bring a guest?”

Sebastian had arrived with Blaine the other night, sneaking him in so they could sit by the water and drink beer then have completely inappropriate and hot sex under witness of the stars and his parents floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Yes. This is Blaine Anderson.” Sebastian gestured at him. His parents gave approving nods, because that was a normal reaction to Blaine. “He’s the assistant --”

“Head.”

“Head manager at the place I work.” Sebastian smirked. Oh yeah. Blaine could manage head, alright. “He’s here to give you confirm the fact that I have endured the trials and tribulations of customer service.”

“It was a rough start, but he’s found his place,” Blaine agreed. Rough start? Please, Sebastian had been smooth from the start. And he'd gotten a postcard from Suzy recently; seemed she had made great progress. Not a problem at all. “A valuable addition to the team down at The Black Rook.”

“Is that a … medieval-themed strip joint?” Sebastian’s father asked, squinting.

“No, dad, it’s a bar.”

“A gay bar?”

“A bar bar.”

“Like the elephant!” His mother announced triumphantly, then turned to Blaine. “Oh, my sweet little Sebastian loved that show so much as a kid. He used to cry if it wasn’t on TV.”

Blaine cooed. Sebastian rolled his eyes.

“Well. That turned humiliating quicker than expected.”

“I think it’s cute.”

“I think we should leave.”

“No, son, we needed to talk to you,” his dad said. “Take a seat, boys.”

They did, on the loveseat, Sebastian’s arm automatically draping behind Blaine. “What’s going on, pops?”

“We’ve decided to reinstate your allowance.”

“Allowance?” Blaine sent him an amused look. Sebastian sniffed.

“Well, allotted payments from my ridiculously huge trust fund is quite the mouthful.” Sebastian gave Blaine a look. “If you’re feeling a gold digger, I can give you exact numbers.”

“I’ve got your number already,” Blaine said, winking. Sebastian’s mother cleared her throat.

"You can't know him  _yet_ , dear," she scolded playfully. “You have to visit three countries together and have a threesome first, before you're ready to know him for life.”

Blaine nodded seriously. Sebastian shook his head frantically.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Sebastian said hastily, because the words  _meant to be_ had absolutely never crossed his mind, not ever. "It's just a crush!" Blaine patted him on the knee.

“Are you dating?”

“We are,” Blaine said. “But you've got to introduce the idea to him gently."

Dating! It was a summer fling. A five-hundred days of summer kind of fling. Maybe thousand days. That’s it. That was where Sebastian drew the line.

“Ahh, I remember those days.” Sebastian’s dad turned misty eyes on his wife, who returned the look, before refocusing on Sebastian and Blaine. “And as a reward for how productive you’ve been, we’re giving you a little bonus.”

“What’s that?”

“A trip to Paris!” Sebastian’s mother said, clapping. “Oh, we had the townhouse all prepped. We’ll even throw in a ticket for your lovely beau here.”

Whoa. Paris -- alone? Or at least with a chaperone he wouldn’t have to sneak behind the back of? And damn, there he went, distracted by thoughts of being behind Blaine's back ...

“That’s so generous,” Blaine said, eyes wide. Sebastian wondered if the notion of travelling with Sebastian so soon into their absolutely-unserious-fling unsettled him. Which it shouldn’t because if it wasn’t serious, then this would just be a chance for Parisian croissants in the afterglow, and nothing more. It was just how rich people had their fun. “But -- I have to work …”

“You’ve got vacation days on top of vacation days saved up,” Sebastian pointed out. He wanted those croissants, dammit -- and he wanted to see Blaine light up when he tried them. Watching this man indulge in cronuts was cute enough.

(Okay. He was head over heels. Don't tell anyone.)

“I just made manager! I can’t leave when I’m establishing my position.”

“Just cite needing mental health time after putting up with me. I’m sure people will understand.”

“That … makes sense.”

Blaine was caving. This was _just_ like the incident with the phonebooth.

“Of course it does.” Sebastian grinned, and when Blaine nodded slowly, turned to his parents. “Then we’ll be going as soon as possible.”

“Excellent!”

Sebastian jumped to his feet. “Want to help me pack, Blaine?”

“Sure.” Blaine accepted Sebastian’s hand as he got up as well. “But we can’t leave until I make plans at work, get Santana to take over my duties, rearrange the schedules …”

“That can wait,” Sebastian said. “Right now, we need to get to my bedroom.”

“Sebastian!” Blaine hissed, pointedly looking to Sebastian’s parents, who laughed.

“Plenty socialized,” his dad chuckled into his whiskey.

“To pack, silly.” Sebastian began to pull Blaine out of the room, enjoying the look Blaine was sending him. When they hit the door, his mother called out,

“Oh, Sebastian?”

“Yes, maman?”

“We told you so.”

Sebastian shook his head, shuffling Blaine out of the door before Blaine could ask. Once it was shut, he smiled down at his _boyfriend_. “So. Ready to cross one country off?”

No shame in testing the waters. If things blew up in their faces, at least a Parisian break up  would be excellent interest points for the next guy. Not that Sebastian wanted Blaine to have a next guy. That would mean there was someone out there better than him. Which simply couldn’t be true.

Blaine quirked a brow. “That’s a dangerous statement to make.”

“What can I say? I like living on the edge.”

“The edge of commitment?” Blaine smiled, turning his hand over in Sebastian’s to draw him down the stately hall. “What if I’m not down for that?”

“We Smythes do like a challenge,” Sebastian told him.

“And we Andersons pose a big one,” Blaine returned, grin widening. “So are you ready to sweep me off my feet?”

Sebastian replied to this with a smirk, stepping forward, and in a smooth move sliding an arm under Blaine’s knees and shoulders to pick him. Blaine gave an entirely undignified shriek, and Sebastian’s ears were left ringing. “I’d say I already have,” he told Blaine with the perfect touch of smarm, the little shake to his head to clear his ears perhaps ruining the effect.

“Idiot,” Blaine said, arms curling around Sebastian’s neck. “Please don’t drop me.”

“I’m going to have to. No way I’m carrying you up a flight of stairs.”

“So romantic.” Despite his sarcasm, Blaine leaned forward to kiss Sebastian’s ear. Perhaps he sensed the pain he had caused.

“We- _ell_ ,” Sebastian purred. “I better have some strength left for when I screw you against the wall, right?"

“Oh.” Blaine’s mouth dropped open softly. “What happened to packing?”

“I think it’s best to have a little fun over responsibility every now and again, don’t you think?”

“You know what?” Blaine beamed. “I actually do.”

They were kissing all the way to Sebastian’s bathroom, the sex was magnificent (but it always was, because there was nobody else quite like Sebastian and Blaine), and when they were in Paris two weeks later Sebastian had to smile fondly while he watched Blaine _dribble_ drool all over his pillow, snoring lightly. He had beaten his summer challenge, but really, it felt less like a conquering victory and more like he had been given a very unique privilege. Which left him with a very sincere, important realization to cap off this all off:

Thank _god_ he had lied on his resume.

_fin_

 


End file.
